The 

m  ll%s* 


of, 


Sandal-V    v 

ant.     •*•  '     4      '•  'CTk,  jj«»   ~*^P 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


The    Squire 
of  Sandal-Side 


New  York 
Dodd,  Mead  and  Company 


Copyright,  1886, 
BY  DODO,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 


d77 


CONTENTS. 


I.  SEAT-SANDAL 5 

II.  THE  SHEEP-SHEARING    ....         28 

III.  JULIUS  SANDAL 51 

IV.  THUS   RUNS   THE  WORLD   AWAY      .          .  74 

V.  CHARLOTTE 109 

VI.  THE  DAY  BEFORE  CHRISTMAS       .       .        137 

VII.  WOOING  AND  WEDDING     .       .       .       .170 

VIII.  THE  ENEMY  IN  THE  HOUSEHOLD.       .        204 

IX.  ESAU 242 

X.  THE  NEW  SQUIRE 280 

XI.  SANDAL  AND  SANDAL   .   .   .   .311 


THE  SQUIRE  OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 


CHAPTER   I. 

SEAT-SANDAL. 

"  This  happy  breed  of  men,  this  little  world" 

"  To  know 

That  which  before  us  lies  in  daily  life 
Is  the  prime  wisdom." 

"  All  that  are  lovers  of  virtue  ...  be  quiet,  and  go  a-angling." 

r INHERE  is  a  mountain  called  Seat-Sandal, 
*-  between  the  Dunmail  Raise  and  Grisedale 
Pass ;  and  those  who  have  stood  upon  its  sum 
mit  know  that  Grasmere  vale  and  lake  lie  at 
their  feet,  and  that  Windermere,  Esthwaite,  and 
Coniston,  with  many  arms  of  the  sea,  and  a 
grand  brotherhood  of  mountains,  are  all  around 
them.  There  is  also  an  old  gray  manor-house 
of  the  same  name.  It  is  some  miles  distant 
from  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  snugly  sheltered 


6  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

in  one  of  the  loveliest  valleys  between  Coniston 

•i, 

and  Torver.  No  one  knows  when  the  first 
stones  of  this  house  were  laid.  The  Sandals 
were  in  Sandal-Side  when  the  white-handed, 
waxen-faced  Edward  was  building  Westminster 
Abbey,  and  William  the  Norman  was  laying 
plans  for  the  crown  of  England.  Probably  they 
came  with  those  Norsemen  who  a  century  ear 
lier  made  the  Isle  of  Man  their  headquarters, 
and  from  it,  landing  on  the  opposite  coast  of 
Cumberland,  settled  themselves  among  valleys 
and  lakes  and  mountains  of  primeval  beauty, 
which  must  have  strongly  reminded  them  of 
their  native  land. 

For  the  prevailing  names  of  this  district  are 
all  of  the  Norwegian  type,  especially  such 
abounding  suffixes  and  prefixes  as  seat  from 
"  set,"  a  dwelling ;  dale  from  "  dal,"  a  valley  ;  felt 
from  "fjeld,"  a  mountain;  garth  from  "gard," 
.m  enclosure ;  and  thwaite,  from  "  thveit,"  a 
clearing.  It  is  certain,  also,  that,  in  spite  of 
much  Anglo-Saxon  admixture,  the  salt  blood 
of  the  roving  Viking  is  still  in  the  Cumberland 
dalesman.  Centuries  of  bucolic  isolation  have 
not  obliterated  it.  Every  now  and  then  the 
sea  calls  some  farmer  or  shepherd,  and  the 


SEA  T-SANDAL.  7 

restless  drop  in  his  veins  gives  him  no  peace 
till  he  has  found  his  way  over  the  hills  and  fells 
to  the  port  of  Whitehaven,  and  gone  back  to 
the  cradling  bosom  that  rocked  his  ancestors. 

But  in  the  main,  this  lovely  spot  was  a  north 
ern  Lotus-land  to  the  Viking.  The  great  hills 
shut  him  in  from  the  sight  of  the  sea.  He 
built  himself  a  "seat,"  and  enclosed  "thwaites" 
of  greater  or  less  extent ;  and,  forgetting  the 
world  in  his  green  paradise,  was  for  centuries 
almost  forgotten  by  the  world.  And  if  long 
descent  and  an  ancient  family  have  any  special 
claim  to  be  held  honorable,  it  is  among  the 
Cumberland  "  statesmen,"  or  freeholders,  it  must 
be  looked  for  in  England. 

The  Sandals  have  been  wise  and  fortunate 
owners  of  the  acres  which  Logberg  Sandal 
cleared  for  his  descendants.  They  have  a  fam 
ily  tradition  that  he  came  from  Iceland  in  his 
own  galley ;  and  a  late  generation  has  written 
out  portions  of  a  saga,  — long  orally  transmitted, 
—  which  relates  the  incidents  of  his  voyage. 
All  the  Sandals  believe  implicitly  in  its  authen 
ticity  ;  and,  indeed,  though  it  is  full  of  fighting, 
of  the  plunder  of  gold  and  rich  raiment,  and 
the  carrying  off  of  fair  women,  there  is  nothing 


8  THE  SQUIRE   Of  SANDAL-SIDE. 

improbable  in  its  relations,  considering  the  peo 
ple  and  the  time  whose  story  it  professes  to  tell. 

Doubtless  this  very  Logberg  Sandal  built 
the  central  hall  of  Seat-Sandal.  There  were 
giants  in  those  days  ;  and  it  must  have  been  the 
hands  of  giants  that  piled  the  massive  blocks, 
and  eyes  accustomed  to  great  expanses  that 
measured  off  the  large  and  lofty  space.  Smaller 
rooms  have  been  built  above  it  and  around  it, 
and  every  generation  has  added  something  to 
its  beauty  and  comfort ;  but  Ldgberg's  great 
hall,  with  its  enormous  fireplace,  is  still  the 
heart  of  the  home. 

For  nowhere  better  than  among  these 
"  dalesmen  "  can  the  English  elemental  resist 
ance  to  fusion  be  seen.  Only  at  the  extreme 
point  of  necessity  have  they  exchanged  ideas 
with  any  other  section,  yet  they  have  left 
their  mark  all  over  English  history.  In  Cum 
berland  and  Westmoreland,  the  most  pathetic 
romances  of  the  Red  Rose  were  enacted.  In 
the  strength  of  these  hills,  the  very  spirit  of 
the  Reformation  was  cradled.  From  among 
them  came  the  Wyckliffite  queen  of  Henry  the 
Eighth,  and  the  noble  confessor  and  apostle 
Bernard  Gilpin.  No  lover  of  Protestantism 


SEA  T-SANDAL.  9 

can  afford  to  forget  the  man  who  refused  the 
bishopric  of  Carlisle,  and  a  provostship  at 
Oxford,  that  he  might  traverse  the  hills  and 
dales,  and  read  to  the  simple  "  statesmen  "  and 
shepherds  the  unknown  Gospels  in  the  vernacu 
lar.  They  gathered  round  him  in  joyful  won 
der,  and  listened  kneeling  to  the  Scriptures. 
Only  the  death  of  Mary  prevented  his  martyr 
dom  ;  and  to-day  his  memory  is  as  green  as  are 
the  ivies  and  sycamores  around  his  old  home. 

The  Protestant  spirit  which  Gilpin  raised 
among  these  English  Northmen  was  exception 
ally  intense ;  and  here  George  Fox  found  ready 
the  strong  mystical  element  necessary  for  his 
doctrines.  For  these  men  had  long  wor 
shipped  "in  temples  not  made  with  hands." 
In  the  solemn  "  high  places  "  they  had  learned 
to  interpret  the  voices  of  winds  and  waters  ; 
and  among  the  stupendous  crags,  more  like 
clouds  at  sunset  than  fragments  of  solid  land, 
they  had  seen  and  heard  wonderful  things. 
All  over  this  country,  from  Kendal  to  old 
Ulverston,  Fox  was  known  and  loved ;  and 
from  Swarthmoor  Hall,  a  manor-house  not 
very  far  from  Seat-Sandal,  he  took  his  wife. 

After    this     the     Stuarts     came     marching 


IO  THE  SQUIRE  OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

through  the  dales,  but  the  followers  of  Wyck< 
liffe  and  Fox  had  little  sympathy  with  the 
Stuarts.  In  the  reoellion  of  1715,  their  own 
lord,  the  Earl  of  Derwentwater,  was  beheaded 
for  aiding  the  unfortunate  family  ;  and  the  hills 
and  waters  around  are  sad  with  the  memories 
of  his  lady's  heroic  efforts  and  sufferings.  So, 
when  Prince  Charles  came  again,  in  1745,  they 
were  moved  neither  by  his  beauty  nor  his 
romantic  daring :  they  would  take  no  part  at 
all  in  his  brilliant  blunder. 

It  was  for  his  stanch  loyalty  on  this  occasion, 
that  the  Christopher  Sandal  of  that  day  was 
put  among  the  men  whom  King  George  deter 
mined  to  honor.  A  baronetcy  was  offered  him, 
which  he  declined ;  for  he  had  a  feeling  that 
he  would  deeply  offend  old  Logberg  Sandal,  and 
perhaps  all  the  rest  of  his  ancestral  wraiths,  if 
he  merged  their  ancient  name  in  that  of  Baron 
of  Torver.  The  sentiment  was  one  the  Ger 
man  King  of  England  could  understand  and 
respect ;  and  Sandal  received,  in  place  of  a 
costly  title,  the  lucrative  office  of  High  Sheriff 
of  Cumberland,  and  a  good  share  besides  of  the 
forfeited  lands  of  the  rebel  houses  of  Huddle- 
ston  and  Millom. 


SEA  T-SANDAL.  1 1 

Then  he  took  his  place  among  the  great 
county  families  of  England.  He  passed  over 
his  own  hills,  and  went  up  to  London,  and  did 
homage  for  the  king's  grace  to  him.  And 
that  strange  journey  awakened  in  the  mountain 
lord  some  old  spirit  of  adventure  and  curiosity. 
He  came  home  by  the  ocean,  and  perceived 
that  he  had  only  half  lived  before.  He  sent 
his  sons  to  Oxford ;  he  made  them  travel ;  he 
was  delighted  when  the  youngest  two  took  to 
the  sea  as  naturally  as  the  eider-ducks  fledged 
in  a  sea-sand  nest. 

Good  fortune  did  not  spoil  the  old,  cautious 
family.  It  went  "cannily"  forward,  and  knew 
how  "  to  take  occasion  by  the  hand,"  and  how 
to  choose  its  friends.  Towards  the  close  of 
the  eighteenth  century,  an  opportune  loan 
again  set  the  doors  of  the  House  of  Lords  open 
to  the  Sandals ;  but  the  head  of  the  family 
was  even  less  inclined  to  enter  it  than  his 
grandfather  had  been. 

"Nay,  then,"  was  his  answer,  "t '  Sandals  are 
too  old  a  family  to  hide  their  heads  in  a  coro 
net.  Happen,  I  am  a  bit  opinion-tied,  but  it's 
over  late  to  loosen  knots  made  centuries  ago  ; 
and  I  don't  want  to  loosen  them,  neither." 


12  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

So  it  will  be  perceived,  that,  though  the  San 
dals  moved,  they  moved  slowly.  A  little 
change  went  a  great  way  with  them.  The 
men  were  all  conservative  in  politics,  the 
women  intensely  so  in  all  domestic  tradi 
tions.  They  made  their  own  sweet  waters  and 
unguents  and  pomades,  long  after  the  nearest 
chemist  supplied  a  far  better  and  cheaper 
article.  Their  spinning-wheels  hummed  by 
the  kitchen-fire,  and  their  shuttles  glided  deftly 
in  the  weaving-room,  many  a  year  after  Man 
chester  cottons  were  cheap  and  plentiful.  But 
they  were  pleasant,  kindly  women,  who  did 
wonderful  needle-work,  and  made  all  kinds  of 
dainty  dishes  and  cordials  and  sirups.  They 
were  famous  florists  and  gardeners,  and  the 
very  neatest  of  housewives.  They  visited  the 
poor  and  sick,  and  never  went  empty-handed. 
They  were  hearty  Churchvvomen.  They  loved 
God,  and  were  truly  pious,  and  were  hardly 
aware  of  it ;  for  those  were  not  days  of  much 
inquiry.  People  did  their  duty  and  were  happy, 
and  did  not  reason  as  to  "  why  "  they  did  it,  nor 
try  to  ascertain  if  there  were  a  legitimate 
cause  for  the  effect. 

But  about  the  beginning  of   this  century,  a 


SEAT-SANDAL.  13 

different  day  began  to  dawn  over  Sandal-Side. 
The  young  heir  came  to  his  own,  and  signal 
ized  the  event  by  marrying  the  rich  Miss 
Lowther  of  Whitehaven.  She  had  been  finely 
educated.  She  had  lived  in  large  cities,  and 
been  to  court.  She  dressed  elegantly ;  she  had 
a  piano  and  much  grand  furniture  brought  over 
the  hills  to  Sandal ;  and  she  filled  the  old  house 
during  the  summer  with  lords  and  ladies,  and 
poets  and  artists,  who  flitted  about  the  idyllic 
little  village,  like  gay  butterflies  in  a  lovely 
garden. 

The  husband  and  children  of  such  a  woman 
were  not  likely  to  stand  still.  Sandal,  encour 
aged  by  her  political  influence,  went  into  Par 
liament.  Her  children  did  fairly  well ;  for 
though  one  boy  was  wild,  and  cost  them  a 
deal  of  money,  and  another  went  away  in  a 
passion  one  morning,  and  never  came  back, 
the  heir  was  a  good  son,  and  the  two  girls 
made  splendid  marriages.  On  the  whole,  she 
could  feel  that  she  had  done  well  to  her  gen 
eration.  Even  after  she  had  been  long  dead, 
the  old  women  in  the  village  talked  of  her 
beauty  and  spirit,  of  the  tight  hand  she  kept 
over  every  one  and  every  thing  pertaining  to 


14  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

Sandal.  Of  all  the  mistresses  of  the  old  "  seat," 
this  Mistress  Charlotte  was  the  most  promi 
nent  and  the  best  remembered. 

Every  one  who  steps  within  the  wide,  cool 
hall  of  Seat-Sandal  faces  first  of  all  things  her 
picture.  It  is  a  life-size  painting  of  a  beautiful 
woman,  in  the  queer,  scant  costume  of  the 
regency.  She  wears  a  white  satin  frock  and 
white  satin  slippers,  and  carries  in  her  hand  a 
bunch  of  white  roses.  She  appears  to  be  com 
ing  down  a  flight  of  wide  stairs ;  one  foot  is 
lifted  for  the  descent,  and  the  dark  background, 
and  the  dim  light  in  which  it  hangs,  give  to 
the  illusion  an  almost  startling  reality.  It  was 
her  fancy  to  have  the  painting  hung  there  to 
welcome  all  who  entered  her  doors  ;  and  though 
it  is  now  old-fashioned,  and  rather  shabby  and 
faded,  no  one  of  the  present  generation  cares 
to  order  its  removal.  All  hold  quietly  to  the 
opinion  that  "grandmother  would  not  like  it." 

In  that  quiet  acre  on  the  hillside,  which  holds 
the  generations  of  the  Sandals,  she  had  been 
at  rest  for  ten  years.  But  her  son  still  bared 
his  gray  head  whenever  he  passed  her  picture  ; 
still,  at  times,  stood  a  minute  before  it,  and  said 
with  tender  respect,  "  I  salute  thee,  mother." 


SEA  T-SANDAL.  1 5 

And  in  her  granddaughter's  lives  still  she  in 
terfered  ;  for  she  had  left  in  their  father's  charge 
a  sum  of  money,  which  was  to  be  used  solely  to 
give  them  some  pleasure  which  they  could  not 
have  without  it.  In  this  way,  though  dead,  she 
kept  herself  a  part  of  their  young  lives  ;  became 
a  kind  of  fairy  grandmother,  who  gave  them 
only  delightful  things,  and  her  name  continued 
a  household  word. 

Only  the  mother  seemed  averse  to  speak  it ; 
and  Charlotte,  who  was  most  observant,  noticed 
that  she  never  lifted  her  eyes  to  the  picture  as 
she  passed  it.  There  were  reasons  for  these 
things  which  the  children  did  not  understand. 
They  had  been  too  young  at  her  death  to  esti 
mate  the  bondage  in  which  she  had  kept  her 
daughter-in-law,  who,  for  her  husband's  sake, 
had  been  ever  patient  and  reticent.  Nothing 
is,  indeed,  more  remarkable  than  the  patience 
of  wives  under  this  particular  trial.  They  may 
be  restive  under  many  far  less  wrongs,  but  they 
bear  the  mother-in-law  grievance  with  a  dignity 
which  shames  the  grim  joking  and  the  petulant 
abuse  of  men  towards  the  same  relationship. 
And  for  many  years  the  young  wife  had  borne 
nobly  a  domestic  tyranny  which  pressed  her  on 


1 6  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

every  hand.  If  then,  she  was  glad  to  be  set 
free  from  it,  the  feeling  was  too  natural  to  be 
severely  blamed ;  for  she  never  said  so,  —  no, 
not  even  by  a  look.  Her  children  had  the 
benefit  of  their  grandmother's  kindness,  and 
she  was  too  honorable  to  deprive  the  dead  of 
their  meed  of  gratitude. 

The  present  holder  of  Sandal  had  none  of  his 
mother's  ambitious  will.  He  cared  for  neither 
political  nor  fashionable  life ;  and  as  soon  as  he 
came  to  his  inheritance,  married  a  handsome, 
sensible  daleswoman  with  whom  he  had  long 
been  in  love.  Then  he  retired  from  a  world 
which  had  nothing  to  give  him  comparable,  in 
his  eyes,  with  the  simple,  dignified  pleasures 
incident  to  his  position  as  Squire  of  Sandal- 
Side.  For  dearly  he  loved  the  old  hall,  with  its 
sheltering  sycamores  and  oaks,  —  oaks  which 
had  been  young  trees  when  the  knights  lying 
in  Furness  Abbey  led  the  Grasmere  bowmen  at 
Crecy  and  Agincourt.  Dearly  he  loved  the  large, 
low  rooms,  full  of  comfortable  elegance ;  and 
the  sweet,  old-fashioned,  Dutch  garden,  so  green 
through  all  the  snows  of  winter,  so  cheerfully 
grave  and  fragrant  in  the  summer  twilights,  so 
shady  and  cool  even  in  the  hottest  noons. 


SEA  T-SANDAL.  1 7 

Thirty  years  ago  he  was  coming  through  it 
one  July  evening.  It  had  been  a  very  hot  day  ; 
and  the  flowers  were  drooping,  and  the  birds 
weary  and  silent.  But  Squire  Sandal,  though 
flushed  and  rumpled  looking,  had  still  the  air 
of  drippy  mornings  and  hazy  afternoons  about 
him.  There  was  a  creel  at  his  back,  and  a  fish 
ing-rod  in  his  hand,  and  he  had  just  come  from 
the  high,  unplanted  places,  and  the  broomy, 
breezy  moorlands ;  and  his  broad,  rosy  face 
expressed  nothing  but  happiness. 

At  his  side  walked  his  favorite  daughter 
Charlotte,  — his  dear  companion,  the  confidant 
and  sharer  of  all  his  sylvan  pleasures.  She  was 
tired  and  dusty ;  and  her  short  printed  gown 
showed  traces  of  green,  spongy  grass,  and 
lichen-covered  rocks.  But  her  face  was  a  joy 
to  see :  she  had  such  bright  eyes,  such  a  kind, 
handsome  mouth,  such  a  cheerful  voice,  such 
a  merry  laugh.  As  they  came  in  sight  of  the 
wide-open  front-doors,  she  looked  ruefully  down 
at  her  feet  and  her  grass-and-water-stained 
skirt,  and  then  into  her  father's  face. 

"I  don't  know  what  Sophia  will  say  if  she 
sees  me,  father  ;  I  don't,  indeed." 

"  Never  you  mind  her,  dear.     Sophia's  rather 


1 8  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

high,  you  know.  And  we've  had  a  rare  gooc 
time.  Eh?  What?" 

"  I  should  think  we  have  !  There  are  no 
many  pleasures  in  life  better  than  persuading 
a  fine  trout  to  go  a  little  way  down  strean 
with  you.  Are  there,  father  ?  " 

"You  are  right,  Charlotte.  Trout  are  thi 
kind  of  company  you  want  on  an  outing.  An< 
then,  you  know,  if  you  can  only  persuade  om 
to  go  down  stream  a  bit  with  you,  there's  no 
much  difficulty  in  persuading  him  to  let  yoi 
have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  him  to  dinner 
Eh?  What?" 

"  I  think  I  will  go  round  by  the  side 
door,  father.  I  might  meet  some  one  in  th< 
hall." 

"  Nay,  don't  do  that.  There  isn't  any  nee< 
to  shab  off.  Yau've  done  nothing  wrong,  an< 
I'm  ready  to  stand  by  you,  my  dear ;  and  yoi 
know  what  a  good  time  we've  been  having  al 
day.  Eh?  What?" 

"  Of  course  I  know,  father,  — 

"  Showers  and  clouds  and  winds, 

All  things  well  and  proper ; 
Trailer,  red  and  white, 
Dark  and  wily  dropper. 


SEAT-SANDAL.  19 

Midges  true  to  fling 

Made  of  plover  hackle, 
With  a  gaudy  wing, 

And  a  cobweb  tackle." 

"Cobweb  tackle,  eh,  Charlotte?  Yes,  cer 
tainly  ;  for  a  hand  that  can  manage  it.  Lancie 
Crossthwaite  will  land  you  a  trout,  three  pounds 
weight,  with  a  line  that  wouldn't  lift  a  dead 
weight  of  one  pound  from  the  floor  to  the  table. 
I'll  uphold  he  will.  Eh  ?  What  ?  " 

"I'll  do  it  myself,  some  day;  see  if  I  don't, 
father." 

"  I've  no  doubt  of  it,  Charlotte ;  not  a  bit." 
Then  being  in  the  entrance-hall,  they  parted 
with  a  smile  of  confidence,  and  Charlotte 
hastened  up-stairs  to  prepare  herself  for  the 
evening  meal.  She  gave  one  quick  glance  at 
her  grandmother's  picture  as  she  passed  it,  a 
glance  of  mingled  deprecation  and  annoyance  ; 
for  there  were  times  when  the  complacent 
serenity  of  the  perfect  face,  and  the  perfect 
propriety  of  the  white  satin  gown,  gave  her  a 
little  spasm  of  indignation. 

She  dressed  rapidly,  with  a  certain  deft 
grace  that  was  part  of  her  character.  And  it 
was  a  delightful  surprise  to  watch  the  meta- 


20  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE, 

morphosis ;  the  more  so,  as  it  went  on  with  a 
perfect  unconsciousness  of  its  wonderful  beauty. 
Here  a  change,  and  there  a  change,  until  the 
bright  brown  hair  was  loosened  from  its  net 
of  knotted  silk,  to  fall  in  wavy,  curly  masses ; 
and  the  printed  gown  was  exchanged  for  one 
of  the  finest  muslin,  pink  and  flowing,  and 
pinned  together  with  bows  of  pale  blue  satin. 
A  daring  combination,  which  precisely  suited 
her  blonde,  brilliant  beauty.  Her  eyes  were 
shining ;  her  cheeks  touched  by  the  sun  till 
they  had  the  charming  tints  of  a  peach  on  a 
southern  wall.  She  looked  at  herself  with  a 
little  nod  of  satisfaction,  and  then  tapped  at 
the  door  of  the  room  adjoining  her  own.  It 
was  Miss  Sandal's  room ;  and  Miss  Sandal, 
though  only  sixteen  months  older  than  Char 
lotte,  exacted  all  the  deference  due  to  her  by 
the  right  of  primogeniture. 

"  Come  in,  Charlotte." 

"  How  did  you  know  it  was  I  ?  " 

"I  know  your  knock,  however  you  vary  it. 
Nobody  knocks  like  you.  I  suppose  no  two 
people  would  make  three  taps  just  the  same." 
She  was  far  too  polite  to  yawn  ;  but  she  made 
as  much  of  the  movement  as  she  could  not 


SEAT-SANDAL.  21 

control,  and  then  put  a  mark  in  her  book,  and 
laid  it  down.  A  very  different  girl,  indeed,  was 
she  from  her  younger  sister ;  a  stranger  would 
never  have  suspected  her  of  the  same  parent 
age. 

She  had  dark,  fine  eyes,  which,  however,  did 
not  express  what  she  felt :  they  rather  gave  the 
idea  of  storing  up  impressions  to  be  re-acted 
upon  by  some  interior  power.  She  had  a 
delicate  complexion,  a  great  deal  of  soft,  black 
hair  compactly  dressed,  and  a  neat  figure. 
Her  disposition  was  dreamy  and  self-willed ; 
occult  studies  fascinated  her,  and  she  was  pas 
sionately  fond  of  moonlight.  She  was  simply 
dressed  in  a  white  muslin  frock,  with  a  black 
ribbon  around  her  slim  waist;  but  the  ribbon 
was  clasped  by  a  buckle  of  heavily  chased  gold, 
and  her  fingers  had  many  rings  on  them,  and 
looked  —  a  very  rare  circumstance  —  the  better 
for  them.  Having  put  down  her  book,  she 
rose  from  her  chair ;  and  as  she  dipped  the  tips 
of  her  hands  in  water,  and  wiped  them  with 
elaborate  nicety,  she  talked  to  Charlotte  in  a 
soft,  deliberate  way. 

"  Where  have  you  been,  you  and  father,  ever 
since  daybreak  ? " 


22  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

"  Up  to  Blaeberry  Tarn,  and  then  home  by 
Holler  Beck.  We  caught  a  creel  full  of  trout,, 
and  had  a  very  happy  day." 

"  Really,  you  know  ? " 

"  Yes,  really  ;  why  not  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  understand  it,  Charlotte.  I  sup 
pose  we  never  were  sisters  before."  She  said 
the  words  with  the  air  of  one  who  rather  states 
a  fact  than  asks  a  question  ;  and  Charlotte,  not 
at  all  comprehending,  looked  at  her  curiously 
and  interrogatively. 

"I  mean  that  our  relationship  in  this  life 
does  not  touch  our  anterior  lives." 

"  Oh,  you  know  you  are  talking  nonsense, 
Sophia !  It  gives  me  such  a  feel,  you  can't  tell, 
to  think  of  having  lived  before ;  and  I  don't 
believe  it.  There,  now  !  Come,  dear,  let  us  go 
to  dinner;  I'm  that  hungry  I'm  fit  to  drop." 
For  Charlotte  was  watching,  with  a  feeling  of 
injury,  Sophia's  leisurely  method  of  putting 
every  book  and  chair  and  hairpin  in  its  place. 

The  sisters'  rooms  were  precisely  alike  in 
their  general  features,  and  yet  there  was  as 
great  a  relative  difference  in  their  apartments 
as  in  their  natures.  Both  were  large,  low 
rooms,  facing  the  sunrise.  The  walls  of  both 


SEAT-SANDAL.  2$ 

were  of  dark  oak ;  the  roofs  of  both  were  of  the 
same  sombre  wood ;  so  also  were  the  floors. 
They  were  literally  oak  chambers.  And  in  both 
rooms  the  draperies  of  the  beds,  chairs,  and 
-windows  were  of  white  dimity.  But  in  Sophia's, 
there  were  many  pictures,  souvenirs  of  girl- 
ihood's  friendships,  needlework,  finished  and  un 
finished  drawings,  and  a  great  number  of 
books  mostly  on  subjects  not  usually  attractive 
to  young  women.  Charlotte's  room  had  no 
pictures  on  its  walls,  and  no  odds  and  ends  of 
memorials ;  and  as  sewing  was  to  her  a  duty 
.and  not  a  pleasure,  there  was  no  crotcheting  or 
Berlin-wool  work  in  hand  ;  and  with  the  excep 
tion  of  a  handsome  copy  of  "  Izaak  Walton," 
there  were  no  books  on  her  table  but  a  Bible, 
Book  of  Common  Prayer,  and  a  very  shabby 
Thomas  a  Kempis. 

So  dissimilar  were  the  girls  in  their  appear 
ance  and  their  tastes  ;  and  yet  they  loved  each 
•other  with  that  calm,  habitual,  family  affection, 
which,  undemonstrative  as  it  is,  stands  the  wear 
and  tug  of  life  with  a  wonderful  tenacity. 
Down  the  broad,  oak  stairway  they  sauntered 
together ;  Charlotte's  tall,  erect  figure,  bright, 
loose  hair,  pink  dress,  and  flowing  ribbons, 


24  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

throwing  into  effective  contrast  the  dark  hair, 
dark  eyes,  white  drapery,  and  gleaming  orna 
ments  of  her  elder  sister. 

In  the  hall  they  met  the  squire.  He  was 
very  fond  and  very  proud  of  his  daughters ;  and 
he  gave  his  right  arm  to  Sophia,  and  slipped  his 
left  hand  into  Charlotte's  hand  with  an  affec 
tionate  pride  and  confidence  that  was  charming. 

"Any  news,  mother?  "  he  asked,  as  he  lifted 
one  of  the  crisp  brown  trout  from  its  bed  of 
white  damask  and  curly  green  parsley. 

"  None,  squire ;  only  the  sheep-shearing  at 
the  Up-Hill  Farm  to-morrow.  John  of  Middle 
Barra  called  with  the  statesman's  respects. 
Will  you  go,  squire  ? " 

"  Certainly.  My  men  are  all  to  lend  a  hand. 
Barf  Latrigg  is  ageing  fast  now ;  he  was  my 
father's  crony ;  if  I  slighted  him,  I  should  feel 
as  if  father  knew  about  it.  Which  of  you  will 
go  with  me?  Thou,  mother?" 

"That,  I  cannot,  squire.  The  servant  lasses 
are  all  promised  for  the  fleece-folding ;  and  it's, 
a  poor  house  that  won't  keep  one  woman  busy 
in  it." 

"  Sophia  and  Charlotte  will  go  then  ?  " 

"Excuse  me,  father,"  answered  Sophia  Ian- 


SEAT-SANDAL,  2$ 

guidly.  "  I  shall  have  a  headache  to-morrow,  I 
fear ;  I  have  been  nervous  and  poorly  all  the 
afternoon." 

"Why,  Sophia,  I  didn't  think  I  had  such  a 
foolish  lass !  Taking  fancies  for  she  doesn't 
know  what.  If  you  plan  for  to-morrow,  plan  a 
bit  of  pleasure  with  it ;  that's  a  long  way  better 
than  expecting  a  headache.  Charlotte  will  go 
then.  Eh  ?  What  ?  " 

"  Yes,  father ;  I  will  go.  Sophia  never  could 
bear  walking  in  the  heat.  I  like  it ;  and  I  think 
there  are  few  things  merrier  than  a  sheep- 
shearing." 

"  So  poetic  !  So  idyllic  !  "  murmured  Sophia, 
with  mild  sarcasm. 

"  Many  people  think  so,  Sophia.  Mr.  Words 
worth  would  remember  Pan  and  Arcadian  shep 
herds  playing  on  reedy  pipes,  and  Chaldaean 
shepherds  studying  the  stars,  and  those  on 
Judoea's  hills  who  heard  the  angels  singing.  He 
would  think  of  wild  Tartar  shepherds,  and 
handsome  Spanish  and  Italian." 

"And  still  handsomer  Cumberland  ones." 
And  Sophia,  having  given  this  little  sisterly  re 
minder,  added  calmly,  "  I  met  Mr.  Wordsworth 
to-day,  father.  He  had  come  over  the  fells  with 


26  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

a  party,  and  he  looked  very  much  bored  with 
his  company." 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  he  were.  He  likes 
his  own  company  best.  He  is  a  great  man 
now,  but  I  remember  well  when  people  thought 
he  was  just  a  little  off-at-side.  You  knew 
Nancy  Butterworth,  mother?" 

"Certainly  I  did,  squire.  She  lived  near 
Rydal." 

"  Yes.  Nancy  wasn't  very  bright  herself. 
A  stranger  once  asked  her  what  Mr.  Words 
worth  was  like ;  and  she  said,  '  He's  canny 
enough  at  times.  Mostly  he's  wandering  up 
and  down  t'  hills,  talking  his  po-et-ry ;  but  now 
and  then  he'll  say,  "  How  do  ye  do,  Nancy  ?"  as 
sensible  as  you  or  me.' ' 

"  Mr.  Wordsworth  speaks  foolishness  to  a 
great  many  people  besides  Nancy  Butterworth," 
said  Sophia  warmly ;  "  but  he  is  a  great  poet 
and  a  great  seer  to  those  who  can  understand 
him." 

"  Well,  well,  Mr.  Wordsworth  is  neither  here 
nor  there  in  our  affairs.  We'll  go  up  to  Lat- 
riggs  in  the  afternoon,  Charlotte.  I'll  be  ready 
at  two  o'clock." 

"  And  I,  also,  father."     Her  face  was  flushed 


SEA  T-SANDAL.  2^ 

and  thoughtful,  and  she  had  become  suddenly 
quiet.  The  squire  glanced  at  her,  but  without 
curiosity ;  he  only  thought,  "  What  a  pity  she 
is  a  lass !  I  wish  Harry  had  her  good  sense 
and  her  good  heart ;  I  do  that." 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE    SHEEP-SHEARING. 

"Plain  living  and  high  thinking  .  .  . 

The  homely  beauty  of  the  good  old  cause, 
.  .  our  peace,  our  fearful  innocence, 
And  pure  religion  breathing  household  laws." 

"  A  happy  youth,  and  their  old  age 
Is  beautiful  and  free." 

sheep-shearings  at  Up-Hill  Farm  were 
•*•  a  kind  of  rural  Olympics.  Shepherds  came 
there  from  far  and  near  to  try  their  skill  against 
each  other,  —  young  men  in  their  prime  mostly, 
with  brown,  ruddy  faces,  and  eyes  of  that  bright 
blue  lustre  which  is  only  gained  by  a  free,  open- 
air  life.  The  hillside  was  just  turning  purple 
with  heather  bloom,  and  along  the  winding, 
stony  road  the  yellow  asphodels1  were  dancing 
in  the  wind.  Everywhere  there  was  the  scent 
of  bog-myrtle  and  wild-rose  and  sweetbrier, 
and  the  tinkling  sound  of  becks  babbling  over 
glossy  rocks  ;  and  in  the  glorious  sunshine 
and  luminous  air,  the  mountains  appeared  to 
28 


THE  SHEEP-SHEARING.  2$ 

expand  and  elevate,  and  to  throw  out  glowing 
peaks  and  summits  into  infinite  space. 

Hand  in  hand  the  squire  and  his  daughter 
climbed  the  fellside.  They  had  left  home  in 
high  spirits,  merrily  flinging  back  the  mother's 
and  Sophia's  last  advices ;  but  gradually  they 
became  silent,  and  then  a  little  mournful.  "  I 
wonder  why  it  is,  father?"  asked  Charlotte; 
"  I'm  not  at  all  tired,  and  how  can  fresh  air  and 
sunshine  make  one  melancholy  ?  " 

"  Maybe,  now,  sad  thoughts  are  catching.  I 
was  having  a  few.  Eh  ?  What  ?  " 

"I  don't  know.  Why  were  you  having  sad 
thoughts  ? " 

"Well,  then,  I  really  can't  understand  why. 
There's  no  need  to  fret  over  changes.  At  the 
long  end  the  great  change  puts  all  right.  Char 
lotte,  I  have  been  coming  to  Barf  Latrigg's 
shearings  for  about  half  a  century.  I  remember 
the  first.  I  held  my  nurse's  hand,  and  wore 
such  a  funny  little  coat,  and  such  a  big  lace 
collar.  And,  dear  me !  it  was  just  such  a  day 
as  this,  thirty-two  years  ago,  that  your  mother 
walked  up  to  the  shearing  with  me,  Charlotte ; 
and  I  asked  her  if  she  would  be  my  wife,  and 
she  said  she  would.  Thou  takes  after  her  a 


3O  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

good  deal ;  she  had  the  very  same  bright  eyes 
and  bonny  face,  and  straight,  tall  shape  thou 
has  to-day.  Barf  Latrigg  was  sixty  then,  turn 
ing  a  bit  gray,  but  able  to  shear  with  any  man 
they  could  put  against  him.  He'll  be  ninety 
now ;  but  his  father  lived  till  he  was  more  than 
a  hundred,  and  most  of  his  fore-elders  touched 
the  century.  He's  had  his  troubles  too." 

"  I  never  heard  of  them." 

"  No.  They  are  dead  and  buried.  A  dead 
trouble  may  be  forgot :  it  is  the  living  troubles 
that  make  the  eyes  dim,  and  the  heart  fail. 
Yes,  yes ;  Barf  is  as  happy  as  a  boy  now,  but  I 
remember  when  he  was  back-set  and  fore-set 
with  trouble.  In  life  every  thing  goes  round 
like  a  cart-wheel.  Eh  ?  What  ?  " 

In  a  short  time  they  reached  the  outer  wall 
of  the  farm.  They  were  eight  hundred  feet 
above  the  valley  ;  and  looking  backwards  upon 
the  woods  from  their  airy  shelf,  the  tops  of  the 
trees  appeared  like  a  solid  green  road,  on  which 
they  might  drop  down  and  walk.  Stone  steps 
in  the  stone  wall  admitted  them  into  the  en 
closure,  and  then  they  saw  the  low  gray  house 
spreading  itself  in  the  shadow  of  the  noble 
sycamores  — 


THE  SHEEP-SHEARING,  31 

.  .  .  "musical  with  bees  ; 

Such  tents  the  patriarchs  loved." 

As  they  approached,  the  old  statesman  strode 
to  the  open  door  to  meet  them.  He  was  a  very 
tall  man,  with  a  bright,  florid  face,  and  a  great 
deal  of  fine,  white  hair.  Two  large  sheep-dogs, 
which  only  wanted  a  hint  to  be  uncivil,  walked 
beside  him.  He  had  that  independent  manner 
which  honorable  descent  and  absolute  owner 
ship  of  house  and  land  give ;  and  he  looked 
every  inch  a  gentleman,  though  he  wore  only 
the  old  dalesman's  costume,  —  breeches  of 
buckskin  fastened  at  the  knees  with  five  silver 
buttons,  home-knit  stockings  and  low  shoes, 
and  a  red  waistcoat,  open  that  day,  in  order  to 
show  the  fine  ruffles  on  his  shirt.  He  was  pre 
cisely  what  Squire  Sandal  would  have  been,  if 
the  Sandals  had  not  been  forced  by  circum 
stances  into  contact  with  a  more  cultivated  and 
a  more  ambitious  life. 

"  Welcome,  Sandal !  I  have  been  watching 
for  thee.  There  would  be  little  prosperation  in 
a  shearing  if  thou  wert  absent.  And  a  good 
day  to  thee,  Charlotte.  My  Ducie  was  speak 
ing  of  thee  a  minute  ago.  Here  she  comes  to 
help  thee  off  with  thy  things." 


32  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

Charlotte  was  untying  her  bonnet  as  she 
entered  the  deep,  cool  porch,  and  a  moment 
afterward  Ducie  was  at  her  side.  It  was  easy 
to  see  the  women  loved  each  other,  though 
Ducie  only  smiled,  and  said,  "  Come  in ;  I'm 
right  glad  to  see  you,  Charlotte.  Come  into  t' 
best  room,  and  cool  your  face  a  bit.  And  how 
is  Mrs.  Sandal  and  Sophia  ?  Be  things  at  their 
usual,  dear  ? " 

"  Thank  you,  Ducie  ;  all  and  every  thing  is 
well,  —  I  hope.  We  have  not  heard  from 
Harry  lately.  I  think  it  worrits  father  a  little, 
but  he  is  never  the  one  to  show  it.  Oh,  how 
sweet  this  room  is  !  " 

She  was  standing  before  the  old-fashioned 
swivel  mirror,  that  had  reflected  three  genera 
tions, —  a  fair,  bright  girl,  with  the  light  and 
hope  of  youth  in  her  face.  The  old  room,  with 
its  oak  walls,  immense  bed,  carved  awmries, 
drawers,  and  cupboards,  made  a  fine  environ 
ment  for  so  much  life  and  color.  And  yet  there 
were  touches  in  it  that  resembled  her,  and 
seemed  to  be  the  protest  of  the  present  with 
the  past,  —  vivid  green  and  scarlet  masses  of 
geranium  and  fuchsia  in  the  latticed  window, 
and  a  great  pot  of  odorous  flowers  upon  the 


THE  SHEEP-SHEARING.  33 

hearthstone.  But  the  peculiar  sweetness  which 
Charlotte  noticed  came  from  the  polished  oak 
floor,  which  was  strewed  with  bits  of  rosemary 
and  lavender,  to  prevent  the  slipping  of  the 
feet  upon  it. 

Charlotte  looked  down  at  them  as  she  ejacu 
lated,  "  How  sweet  this  room  is ! "  and  the 
shadow  of  a  frown  crossed  her  face.  "  I  would 
not  do  it,  Ducie,  for  any  one,"  she  said. 
"  Poor  herbs  of  grace !  What  sin  have  they 
committed  to  be  trodden  under  foot  ?  I  would 
not  do  it,  Ducie :  I  feel  as  if  it  hurt  them." 

"  Nay,  now ;  flowers  grow  to  be  pulled  dear, 
just  as  lasses  grow  to  be  loved  and  married." 

"  Is  that  what  you  think,  Ducie  ?  Some 
cherished  in  the  jar ;  some  thrown  under  the 
feet,  and  bruised  to  death,  —  the  feet  of  wrong 
and  sorrow,"  — 

"  Don't  you  talk  that  way,  Charlotte.  It  isn't 
lucky  for  girls  to  talk  of  wrong  and  sorrow. 
Talking  of  things  bespeaks  them.  There's 
always  them  that  hear  ;  them  that  we  don't  see. 
And  everybody  pulls  flowers,  dearie." 

"  I  don't.  If  I  pull  a  rose,  I  always  believe 
every  other  rose  on  that  tree  is  sad  about  it. 
They  may  be  in  families,  Ducie.  who  can  tell? 


34  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

And  the  little  roses  may  be  like  the  little 
children,  and  very  dear  to  the  grown  roses." 

"  Why,  what  fancies  !  Let  us  go  into  the 
yard,  and  see  the  shearing.  You've  made  me 
feel  as  if  I'd  never  like  to  pull  a  posy  again. 
You  shouldn't  say  such  things,  indeed  you 
shouldn't :  you've  given  me  quite  a  turn,  I'm 
sure." 

As  Ducie  talked,  they  went  through  the 
back-door  into  a  large  yard  walled  in  from 
the  hillside,  and  having  in  it  three  grand  old 
sycamores.  One  of  these  was  at  the  top  of 
the  enclosure,  and  a  circle  of  green  shadow 
like  a  tent  was  around  it.  In  this  shadow 
the  squire  and  the  statesman  were  sitting. 
Their  heads  were  uncovered,  their  long  clay 
pipes  in  their  hands ;  and,  with  a  placid  com 
placency,  they  were  watching  the  score  of  busy 
men  before  them.  Many  had  come  long  dis 
tances  to  try  their  skill  against  each  other ;  for 
the  shearings  at  Latrigg's  were  a  pastoral 
game,  at  which  it  was  a  local  honor  to  be  the 
winner.  There  the  young  statesman  who 
could  shear  his  six  score  a  day  found  others 
of  a  like  capacity,  and  it  was  Greek  against 
Greek  at  Up-Hill  shearing  that  afternoon. 


THE  SHEEP-SHEARING.  35 

"I  had  two  thousand  sheep  to  get  over," 
said  Latrigg,  "but  they'll  be  bare  by  sunset, 
squire.  That  isn't  bad  for  these  days.  When 
I  was  young  we  wouldn't  have  thought  so 
much  of  two  thousand,  but  every  dalesman 
then  knew  what  good  shearing  was.  Now" 
and  the  old  man  shook  his  head  slowly, 
"good  shearers  are  few  and  far  between.  Why, 
there's  some  here  from  beyond  Kirkstone  Pass 
and  Nab  Scar !  " 

It  was  customary  for  young  people  of  all 
conditions  to  give  men  as  aged  as  Barf  Latrigg 
the  honorable  name  of  "grandfather;"  and 
Charlotte  said,  as  she  sat  down  in  the  breezy 
shadow  beside  him,  "Who  is  first,  grand 
father  ? " 

"Why,  our  Stephen,  to  be  sure!  They'll 
have  to  be  up  before  day-dawn  to  keep  sidey 
with  our  Steve.  —  Steve,  how  many  is  thou 
ahead  now  ?  "  The  voice  that  asked  the  ques 
tion,  though  full  of  triumph,  was  thin  and 
weak ;  but  the  answer  came  back  in  full,  mel 
low  tones,  — 

"  Fifteen  ahead,  grandfather." 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad!" 

"Charlotte    Sandal    says     'she's    so    glad/ 


36  THE  SQUIRE  OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

Now  then,  if  thou  loses  ground,  I  wouldn't 
give  a  ha'penny  for  thee." 

Then  the  women  who  were  folding  the  fleeces 
on  tables  under  the  other  two  sycamores  lifted 
their  eyes,  and  glanced  at  Steve  ;  and  some  of 
the  elder  ones  sent  him  a  merry  jibe,  and  some 
of  the  younger  ones,  smiles,  that  made  his 
brown  handsome  face  deepen  in  color ;  but  he 
was  far  too  earnest  in  his  work  to  spare  a 
moment  for  a  reply.  By  and  by,  the  squire 
put  down  his  pipe,  and  sat  watching  with  his 
hands  upon  his  knees.  And  a  stray  child  crept 
up  to  Charlotte,  and  climbed  upon  her  lap,  and 
went  to  sleep  there,  and  the  wind  flecked  these 
four  representatives  of  four  generations  all 
over  with  wavering  shadows  ;  and  Ducie  ca.me 
backwards  and  forwards,  and  finally  carried 
the  sleeping  child  into  the  house  ;  and  Stephen, 
busy  as  he  was,  saw  every  thing  that  went  on 
in  the  group  under  the  top  sycamore. 

Even  before  sundown,  the  last  batch  of 
sheep  were. fleeced  and  smitten?  and  turned  on 
to  the  hillside  ;  and  Charlotte,  leaning  over  the 
wall,  watched  them  wander  contentedly  up  the 

1  Smitten.  Marked  with  the  cipher  of  the  owner  in  a  mixtura 
mostly  of  tar. 


THE  SHEEP-SHEARING.  37 

fell,  with  their  lambs  trotting  beside  them. 
Grandfather  and  the  squire  had  gone  into  the 
house ;  Ducie  was  calling  her  from  the  open 
door;  she  knew  it  was  tea-time,  and  she  was 
young  and  healthy  and  hungry  enough  to  be 
glad  of  it. 

At  the  table  she  met  Stephen.     The  strong, 
bare-armed  Hercules,  whom  she   had  watched 
tossing   the   sheep   around   for   his    shears    as 
easily  as   if   they  had    been   kittens  under  his 
hands,  was  now  dressed  in  a  handsome  tweed 
suit,  and  looking  quite  as  much  of  a  gentleman 
as  the  most  fastidious  maiden  could  desire.    He 
came  in  after  the  meal  had  begun,  flushed  some 
what  with  his  hard  labor,  and  perhaps,  also,  with 
the  hurry  of  his  toilet;  but  there  was  no  em 
barrassment  in  his  manner.     It  had  never  yet 
entered    Stephen's    mind    that    there    was   any 
occasion  for  embarrassment,  for  the  friendship 
between    the    squire's  family  and  his  own  had 
been  devoid  of   all    sense   of   inequality.     The 
squire  was  "the  squire,"  and  was  perhaps  richer 
than  Latrigg,  but  even  that  fact  was  uncertain  ; 
and  the  Sandals  had  been  to  court,  and  married 
into  county  families  ;  but  then  the  Latriggs  had 
been  for  exactly  seven  hundred  years  the  neigh- 


38  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

bors  of  Sandal,  —  good  neighbors,  shoulder  to 
shoulder  with  them  in  every  trial  or  emergency. 

The  long  friendship  had  never  known  but  one 
temporary  shadow,  and  this  had  been  during: 
the  time  that  the  present  squire's  mother  ruled 
in  Sandal ;  the  Mistress  Charlotte  whose  influ 
ence  was  still  felt  in  the  old  seat.  She  had: 
entirely  disapproved  the  familiar  affection  with 
which  Latrigg  met  her  husband,  and  it  was 
said  the  disputes  which  drove  one  of  her  sons 
from  his  home  were  caused  by  her  determina 
tion  to  break  up  the  companionship  existing, 
between  the  young  people  of  the  two  houses  at 
that  time. 

The  squire  remembered  it.  He  had  also,  in 
some  degree,  regarded  his  mother's  prejudices 
while  she  lived ;  but,  after  her  death,  Sophia, 
and  Charlotte,  as  well  as  their  brother,  began 
to  go  very  often  to  Up-Hill  Farm.  Naturally 
Stephen,  who  was  Ducie's  son,  became  the: 
companion  of  Harry  Sandal ;  and  the  girls  grew 
up  in  his  sight  like  two  beautiful  sisters.  It 
was  only  within  the  past  year  that  he  had  be 
gun  to  understand  that  one  was  dearer  to  him 
than  the  other ;  but  though  none  of  the  three 
was  now  ignorant  of  the  fact,  it  was  as  yet 


THE  SHEEP-SHEARING.  39 

tacitly  ignored.  The  knowledge  had  not  been 
pleasant  to  Sophia;  and  to  Charlotte  and  Ste 
phen  it  was  such  a  delicious  uncertainty,  that 
they  hardly  desired  to  make  it  sure ;  and  they 
imagined  their  secret  was  all  their  own,  and 
were  so  happy  in  it,  that  they  feared  to  look  too 
curiously  into  their  happiness. 

There  was  to  be  a  great  feast  and  dance  that 
night :  and,  as  they  sat  at  the  tea-table,  they 
heard  the  mirth  and  stir  of  its  preparation  ;  but 
it  came  into  the  room  only  like  a  pleasant  echo, 
mingling  with  the  barking  of  the  sheep-dogs, 
and  the  bleating  of  the  shorn  sheep  upon  the 
fells,  and  the  murmur  of  their  quiet  conversa 
tion  about  "  the  walks  "  Latrigg  owned,  and  the 
scrambling,  black-faced  breed  whose  endurance 
made  them  so  profitable.  Something  was  also 
said  of  other  shearings  to  which  Stephen  must 
go,  if  he  would  assure  his  claim  to  be  "  top- 
shearer,"  and  of  the  wool-factories  which  the 
most  astute  statesmen  were  beginning  to  build. 

"If  I  were  a  younger  man,  I'd  be  in  with 
them,"  said  Latrigg.  "I'd  spin  and  weave 
my  own  fleeces,  and  send  them  to  Leeds  mar 
ket,  with  no  go-between  to  share  my  profits." 
And  Steve  put  in  a  sensible  word  now  and  then, 


4O  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

and  passed  the  berry-cake  and  honey  and  cream  -, 
and  withal  met  Charlotte's  eyes,  and  caught  her 
smiles,  and  was  as  happy  as  love  and  hope  could 
make  him. 

After  tea  the  squire  wished  to  go  ;  but  Latrigg 
said,  "Smoke  one  pipe  with  me  Sandal,"  and 
they  went  into  the  porch  together.  Then  Steve 
and  Charlotte  sauntered  about  the  garden,  or, 
leaning  on  the  stone  wall,  looked  down  into  the 
valley,  or  away  off  to  the  hills.  Many  things 
they  said  to  each  other  which  seemed  to  mean 
so  little,  but  which  meant  so  much  when  love 
was  the  interpreter.  For  Charlotte  was  eigh 
teen  and  Stephen  twenty-two ;  and  when  mor 
tals  still  so  young  are  in  love,  they  are  quite 
able  to  create  worlds  out  of  nothing. 

After  a  while  the  squire  lifted  his  eyes,  and 
took  in  the  bit  of  landscape  which  included 
them.  The  droop  of  the  young  heads  towards 
each  other,  and  their  air  of  happy  confidence, 
awakened  a  vague  suspicion  in  his  heart.  Per 
haps  Latrigg  was  conscious  of  it ;  for  he  said, 
as  if  in  answer  to  the  squire's  thought,  "  Steve 
will  have  all  that  is  mine.  It's  a  deal  easier  to 
die,  Sandal,  when  you  have  a  fine  lad  like  Steve 
to  leave  the  old  place  to." 


THE  SHEEP-SHEARING.  4! 

"  Steve  is  in  the  female  line.  That's  a  deal 
different  to  having  sons.  Lasses  are  cold  com 
fort  for  sons.  Eh  ?  What  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure ;  but  I've  given  Steve  my  name. 
Any  one  not  called  Latrigg  at  Up-Hill  would 
seem  like  a  stranger." 

"I  know  how  you  feel  about  that.  A  squire 
in  Seat-Sandal  out  of  the  old  name  would  have 
a  very  middling  kind  of  time,  I  think.  He'd 
have  a  sight  of  ill-will  at  his  back." 

"  Thou  means  with  them  !  " 

The  squire  nodded  gravely ;  and  after  a  min 
ute's  silence  said,  "It  stands  to  reason  /^y/take 
an  interest.  I  do  in  them.  When  I  think  of 
this  or  that  Sandal,  or  when  I  look  up  at  their 
faces  as  I  sit  smoking  beside  them,  I'm  sure  I 
feel  like  their  son ;  and  I  wouldn't  grieve  them 
any  more  than  if  they  were  to  be  seen  and  talked 
to.  It's  none  likely,  then,  that  they  forget.  I 
know  they  don't." 

"  I'm  quite  of  thy  way  of  thinking,  Sandal ; 
but  Steve  will  be  called  Latrigg.  He  has 
never  known  any  other  name,  thou  sees." 

"  To  be  sure.     Is  Ducie  willing  ?  " 

"  Poor  lass !  She  never  names  Steve's 
father.  He'd  no  business  in  her  life,  and  he 


42  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

very  soon  went  out  of  it.  Stray  souls  will  get 
into  families  they  have  no  business  in,  some 
times.  They  make  a  deal  of  unhappiness  when 
they  do." 

Sandal  sat  listening  with  a  sympathetic  face. 
He  hoped  Latrigg  was  going  to  tell  him  some 
thing  definite  about  his  daughter's  trouble ;  but 
the  old  man  puffed,  puffed,  in  silence  a  fe\> 
minutes,  and  then  turned  the  conversation. 
However,  Sandal  had  been  touched  on  a  point 
where  he  was  exceedingly  sensitive ;  and  he 
rose  with  a  sigh,  and  said,  "  Well,  well,  Latrigg, 
good-by.  I'll  go  down  the  fell  now.  Come, 
Charlotte." 

Unconsciously  he  spoke  with  an  authority 
not  usual  to  him,  and  the  parting  was  a  little 
silent  and  hurried ;  for  Ducie  was  in  the 
throng  of  her  festival,  and  rather  impatient  for 
Stephen's  help.  Only  Latrigg  walked  to  the 
gate  with  them.  He  looked  after  Sandal  and 
his  daughter  with  a  grave,  but  not  unhappy 
wistfulness;  and  when  a  belt  of  larches  hid 
them  from  his  view,  he  turned  towards  the 
house,  saying  softly,  — 

"  It  is  like  to  be  my  last  shearing.  Very 
soon  this  life  will  have  been,  but  through 


THE  SHEEP-SHEARING.  43 

Christ's  mercy  I  have  the  over-hand  of  the 
future." 

It  was  almost  as  hard  to  go  down  the  fell  as 
to  come  up  it,  for  the  road  was  very  steep  and 
stony.  The  squire  took  it  leisurely,  carrying 
his  straw  hat  in  his  hand,  and  often  standing 
still  to  look  around  him.  The  day  had  been 
very  warm;  and  limpid  vapors  hung  over  the 
mountains,  like  something  far  finer  than  mist, 
— like  air  made  visible, — giving  them  an  ap 
pearance  of  inconceivable  remoteness,  full  of 
grandeur ;  for  there  is  a  sublimity  of  distance, 
as  well  as  a  sublimity  of  height.  He  made 
Charlotte  notice  them.  "  Maybe,  many  a  year 
after  this,  you'll  see  the  hills  look  just  that 
way,  dearie ;  then  think  on  this  evening  and 
on  me." 

She  did  not  speak,  but  she  looked  into  his 
face,  and  clasped  his  hand  tightly.  She  was 
troubled  with  her  own,  mood.  Try  as  she 
would,  it  was  impossible  to  prevent  herself 
drifting  into  most  unusual  silences.  Stephen's 
words  and  looks  filled  her  heart ;  she  had  only 
half  heard  the  things  her  father  had  been  say 
ing.  Never  before  had  she  found  an  hour  in 
her  life  when  she  wished  for  solitude  in  pref- 


44  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

erence  to  his  society,  —  her  good,  tender  father. 
She  put  Stephen  out  of  her  mind,  and  tried 
again  to  feel  all  her  old  interest  in  his  plans  for 
their  amusement.  Alas,  alas  !  The  first  secret, 
especially  if  it  be  a  love-secret,  makes  a  break 
in  that  sweet,  confidential  intercourse  between 
a  parent  and  child  which  nothing  restores. 
The  squire  hardly  comprehended  that  there 
might  be  a  secret.  Charlotte  was  unthoughtful 
of  wrong;  but  still  there  was  a  repression,  a 
something  undefinable  between  them,  impal 
pable,  but  positive  as  a  breath  of  polar  air. 
She  noticed  the  mountains,  for  he  made  her 
do  so ;  but  the  birds  sang  sleepy  songs  to  her 
unheeded,  and  the  yellow  asphodels  made  a 
kind  of  sunshine  at  her  feet  that  she  never 
saw ;  and  even  her  father's  voice  disturbed  the 
dreamy  charm  of  thoughts  that  touched  a 
deeper,  sweeter  joy  than  moor  or  mountain, 
bird  or  flower,  had  ever  given  her. 

Before  they  reached  home,  the  squire  had 
also  become  silent.  He  came  into  the  hall 
with  the  face  of  one  dissatisfied  and  unhappy. 
The  feeling  spread  through  the  house,  as  a 
drop  of  ink  spreads  itself  through  a  glass  of 
water.  It  almost  suited  Sophia's  mood,  and 


THE  SHEEP-SHEARING.  45 

Mrs.  Sandal  was  not  inclined  to  discuss  it  until 
the  squire  was  alone  with  her.  Then  she 
asked  the  question  of  all  questions  the  most 
irritating,  "What  is  the  matter  with  you, 
squire  ? " 

"  What  is  the  matter,  indeed  ?  Love-making. 
That  is  the  matter,  Alice." 

"Charlotte?" 

"Yes." 

"  And  Stephen  Latrigg  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  I  thought  as  much.  Opportunity  is  a 
dangerous  thing." 

"  My  word !  To  hear  you  talk,  one  would 
think  it  was  matterless  how  our  girls  mar 
ried." 

"  It  is  never  matterless  how  any  girl  marries, 
squire  ;  and  our  Charlotte  "  — 

"  Oh,  I  thought  Charlotte  was  a  child  yet ! 
How  could  I  tell  there  was  danger  at  Up- 
Hill  ?  You  ought  to  have  looked  better  after 
your  daughters.  See  that  she  dosen't  go  near- 
hand  Latrigg's  again." 

"  I  wouldn't  be  so  foolish,  William.  It's  a 
deal  better  not  to  notice.  Make  no  words 
about  it ;  and,  if  you  don't  like  Stephen,  send 


46  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

Charlotte  away  a  bit.  Half  of  young  people's 
love-affairs  is  just  because  they  are  handy  to 
each  other." 

"  '  Like  Stephen  ! '  It  is  more  than  a  matter 
of  liking,  as  you  know  very  well.  If  Harry 
Sandal  goes  on  as  he  has  been  going,  there 
will  be  little  enough  left  for  the  girls ;  and  they 
must  marry  where  money  will  not  be  wanted. 
More  than  that,  I've  been  thinking  of  brother 
Tom's  boy  for  one  of  them.  Eh  ?  What  ?  " 

"  You  mean,  you  have  been  writing  to  Tom 
about  a  marriage  ?  I  would  have  been  above 
a  thing  like  that,  William.  I  suppose  you  did 
it  to  please  your  mother.  She  always  did  han 
ker  after  Tom,  and  she  always  did  dislike  the 
Latriggs.  I  have  heard  that  when  people 
were  in  the  grave  they  '  ceased  from  troubling,' 
but"  — 

"  Alice ! " 

"  I  meant  no  harm,  squire,  I'm  sure ;  and  I 
would  not  say  wrong  of  the  dead  for  any  thing, 
specially  of  your  mother;  but  I  think  about 
my  own  girls." 

"  There,  now,  Alice,  don't  whimper  and  cry. 
I  am  not  going  to  harm  your  girls,  not  I.  Only 
mother  was  promised  that  Tom's  son  should 


THE  SHEEP-SHEARING.  47 

have  the  first  chance  for  their  favor.  I'm  sure 
there's  nothing  amiss  in  that.  Eh  ? " 

"A  young  man  born  in  a  foreign  country 
among  blacks,  or  very  near  blacks.  And  nobody 
knows  who  his  mother  was." 

"Oh,  yes !  his  mother  was  a  judge's  daughter, 
and  she  had  a  deal  of  money.  Her  son  has 
been  well  done  to ;  sent  to  the  very  best  Ger 
man  and  French  schools,  and  now  he  is  at  Ox 
ford.  I  dare  say  he  is  a  very  good  young  man, 
and  at  any  rate  he  is  the  only  Sandal  of  this 
generation  except  our  own  boy." 

"  Your  sisters  have  sons." 

"  Yes,  Mary  has  three :  they  are  Lockerbys. 
Elizabeth  has  two :  they  are  Piersons.  My  poor 
brother  Launcie  was  drowned,  and  never  had 
son  or  daughter;  so  that  Tom's  Julius  is  the 
nearest  blood  we  have." 

"Julius  !    I  never  heard  tell  of  such  a  name." 

"Yes,  it  is  a  silly  kind  of  a  foreign  name. 
His  mother  is  called  Julia :  I  suppose  that  is 
how  it  comes.  No  Sandal  was  ever  called  such 
a  name  before,  but  the  young  man  mustn't  be 
blamed  for  his  godfather's  foolishness,  Alice. 
Eh  ? " 

"I'm  not  so  unjust.     Poor  Launcie!     I  saw 


48  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

him  once  at  a  ball  in  Kendal.     Are  you  sure  he 
was  drowned  ? " 

"I  followed  him  to  Whitehaven,  and  found 
out  that  he  had  gone  away  in  a  ship  that  never 
came  home.  Mother  and  Launcie  were  in  bad 
bread  when  he  left,  and  she  never  fretted  for 
him  as  she  did  for  Tom." 

"  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  all  this  before  ? " 
"  I  said  to  myself,  there's  time  enough  yet  to 
be  planning  husbands  for  girls  that  haven't  a 
thought  of  the  kind.  We  were  very  happy 
with  them ;  I  couldn't  bear  to  break  things  up ; 
and  I  never  once  feared  about  Steve  Latrigg, 
not  I." 

"  What  does  your  brother  and  his  wife  say  ? " 
"Tom  is  with  me.  As  for  his  wife,  I  know 
nothing  of  her,  and  she  knows  nothing  of  us. 
She  has  been  in  England  a  good  many  times, 
but  she  never  said  she  would  like  to  come  and 
see  us,  and  my  mother  never  wanted  to  see  her; 
so  there  wasn't  a  compliment  wasted,  you  see. 
Eh?  What?" 

"  No,  I  don't  see,  William.  All  about  it  is 
in  a  muddle,  and  I  must  say  I  never  heard  tell 
of  such  ways.  It  is  like  offering  your  own  flesh 
and  blood  for  sale.  And  to  people  who  want 


THE  SHEEP-SHEARING.  49 

nothing  to* do  with  us.  I'm  astonished  at  you, 
squire." 

"Don't  go  on  so,  Alice.  Tom  and  I  never 
had  any  falling  out.  He  just  got  out  of  the 
way  of  writing.  He  likes  India,  and  he  had  his 
own  reasons  for  not  liking  England  in  any 
shape  you  could  offer  England  to  him.  There's 
no  back  reckonings  between  Tom  and  me,  and 
he'll  be  glad  for  Julius  to  come  to  his  own  peo 
ple.  We  will  ask  Julius  to  Sandal ;  and  you  say, 
yourself,  that  the  half  of  young  folks'  loving  is 
in  being  handy  to  each  other.  Eh  ?  What  ?  " 

"  I  never  thought  you  would  bring  my  words 
up  that  way.  But  I'll  tell  you  one  thing,  my 
girls  are  not  made  of  melted  wax,  William. 
You'll  be  a  wise  man,  and  a  strong  man,  if  you 
get  a  ring  on  their  fingers,  if  they  don't  want  it 
there.  Sophia  will  say  very  soft  and  sweet, '  No, 
thank  you,  father ; '  and  you'll  move  Scawfell 
and  Langdale  Pikes  before  you  get  her  beyond 
it.  As  for  Charlotte,  you  yourself  will  stand 
'making'  better  than  she  will.  And  you  know 
that  nothing  short  of  an  earthquake  can  lift  you 
an  inch  outside  your  own  way." 

And  perhaps  Sandal  thought  the  hyperbole  a 
compliment ;  for  he  smiled  a  little,  and  walked 


50  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

away,  with  what  his  wife  privately  called  "a 
peacocky  air,"  saying  something  about  "  Greek 
meeting  Greek"  as  he  did  so.  Mrs.  Sandal  did 
not  in  the  least  understand  him  :  she  wondered 
a  little  over  the  remark,  and  then  dismissed  it 
as  "  some  of  the  squire's  foolishness." 


CHAPTER   III. 

JULIUS    SANDAL. 

"  Variety's  the  very  spice  of  life 
That  gives  it  all  its  flavor." 

"Domestic  happiness,  thou  only  bliss 
Of  Paradise  that  has  survived  the  fall." 

T  IFE  has  a  chronology  quite  independent  of 
•»— '  the  almanac.  The  heart  divides  it  into 
periods.  When  the  sheep-shearing  had  been 
forgotten  by  all  others,  the  squire  often  looked 
back  to  it  with  longing.  It  was  a  boundary 
which  he  could  never  repass,  and  which  shut 
him  out  forever  from  the  happy  days  of  his 
daughters'  girlhood,  —  the  days  when  they  had 
no  will  but  his  will,  and  no  pleasures  but  in  his 
smile  and  companionship.  His  son  Harry  had 
never  been  to  him  what  Sophia  and  Charlotte 
were.  Harry  had  spent  his  boyhood  in  public 
schools,  and,  when  his  education  was  completed, 
had  defied  all  the  Sandal  traditions,  and  gone 
into  the  army.  At  this  time  he  was  with  his 

51 


52  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

regiment,  —  the  old  Cameronian,  —  in  Edin 
burgh.  And  in  other  points,  besides  his  choice 
of  the  military  profession,  Harry  had  asserted 
his  will  against  his  father's  will.  But  the 
squire's  daughters  gave  him  nothing  but  de 
light.  He  was  proud  of  their  beauty,  proud  of 
Charlotte's  love  of  out-door  pleasures,  proud  of 
Sophia's  love  of  books ;  and  he  was  immeasura 
bly  happy  in  their  affection  and  obedience. 

If  Sandal  had  been  really  a  wise  man  he 
would  have  been  content  with  his  good  fortune  ; 
and  like  the  happy  Corinthian  have  only  prayed, 
"  O  goddess,  let  the  days  of  my  prosperity  con 
tinue  ! "  But  he  had  the  self-sufficiency  and 
impatience  of  a  man  who  is  without  peer  in  his 
own  small  arena.  He  believed  himself  to  be  as 
capable  of  ordering  his  daughters'  lives  as  of 
directing  his  sheep  "walks,"  or  the  change  of 
crops  in  his  valley  and  upland  meadows. 

Suddenly  it  had  been  revealed  to  him,  that 
Stephen  Latrigg  had  found  his  way  into  a  life 
he  thought  wholly  his  own.  Until  that  moment 
of  revelation  he  had  liked  Stephen ;  but  he 
liked  him  no  longer.  He  felt  that  Stephen  had 
stolen  the  privilege  he  should  have  asked  for, 
and  he  deeply  resented  the  position  the  young 


JULIUS  SANDAL.  53 

man  had  taken.  On  the  contrary,  Stephen  had 
been  guilty  of  no  intentional  wrong.  He  had 
simply  grown  into  an  affection  too  sweet  to  be 
spoken  of,  too  uncertain  and  immature  to  be 
subjected  to  the  prudential  rules  of  daily  life ; 
yet,  had  the  question  been  plainly  put  to  him, 
he  would  have  gone  at  once  to  the  squire,  and 
said,  "I  love  Charlotte,  and  I  ask  for  your  sanc 
tion  to  my  love."  He  would  have  felt  such  an 
acknowledgment  to  be  the  father's  most  sacred 
and  evident  right,  and  he  was  thinking  of  mak 
ing  it  at  the  very  hour  in  which  Sandal  was 
feeling  bitterly  toward  him  for  its  omission. 
And  thus  the  old,  old  tragedy  of  mutual  mis 
understanding  works  to  sorrowful  ends. 

The  night  of  the  sheep-shearing  the  squire 
could  not  sleep.  To  lay  awake  and  peer  into 
the  future  through  the  dark  hours  was  a  new 
experience,  and  it  made  him  full  of  restless 
anxieties.  Of  course  he  expected  Sophia  and 
Charlotte  to  marry,  but  not  just  yet.  He  had 
so  far  persistently  postponed  the  consideration 
of  this  subject,  and  he  was  angry  at  Stephen 
Latrigg  for  showing  him  that  further  delay 
might  be  dangerous  to  his  own  plans. 

"  A  presumptuous  young  coxcomb,"  he  mut- 


54  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

tered.  "  Does  he  think  that  being  '  top-shearer* 
gives  him  a  right  to  make  love  to  Charlotte 
Sandal?" 

In  the  morning  he  wrote  the  following 
letter :  — 

NEPHEW  JULIUS  SANDAL, —  I  hear  you  are  at  Ox 
ford,  and  I  should  think  you  would  wish  to  make  the 
acquaintance  of  your  nearest  relatives.  They  will  be  glad" 
to  see  you  at  Seat-Sandal  during  the  vacation,  if  your 
liking  leads  you  that  way.  To  hear  soon  from  you  is  the 
hope  of  your  affectionate  uncle, 

WILLIAM  SANDAL,  of  Sandal-Side. 

He  finished  the  autograph  with  a  broad  flour 
ish,  and  handed  the  paper  to  his  wife.  "What 
do  you  think  of  that,  Alice  ?  Eh  ?  What  ? " 

There  was  a  short  silence,  then  Mrs.  Sandal 
laid  the  note  upon  the  table.  "  I  don't  think 
over  much  of  it,  William.  Good-fortune  won't 
bear  hurrying.  Can't  you  wait  till  events  ripen 
naturally  ? " 

"And  have  all  my  plans  put  out  of  the 
way?" 

"Are  you  sure  that  your  plans  are  the  best 
plans  ? " 

"They  will  be  a  bit  better  than  any  Charlotte 
and  Stephen  Latrigg  have  made." 


JULIUS  SANDAL.  55 

"  I  don't  believe  they  have  such  a  thing  as  a 
plan  between  them.  But  if  you  think  so,  send 
Charlotte  to  her  aunt  Lockerby  for  a  few 
months.  Love  is  just  like  fire:  it  goes  out  if 
it  hasn't  fuel." 

"  Nay,  I  want  Charlotte  here.  After  our 
Harry,  Julius  is  the  next  heir,  and  I'm  set  on 
him  marrying  one  of  the  girls.  If  he  doesn't 
like  Sophia  he  may  like  Charlotte.  I  have 
two  chances  then,  and  I'm  not  going  to  throw 
one  away  for  Steve  Latrigg's  liking  or  loving. 
Don't  you  see,  Alice  ?  Eh  ?  What  ?  " 

"  No  :  I  never  was  one  to  see  beyond  the 
horizon.  But  if  you  must  have  to-morrow  in 
to-day,  why  then  send  off  your  letter.  I  would 
let  '  well '  alone.  When  change  comes  to  the 
•door,  it  is  time  enough  to  ask  it  over  the 
threshold.  We  are  very  happy  now,  William, 
and  every  happy  day  is  so  much  certain  gain 
in  life." 

"  That  is  a  woman's  way  of  talking.  A  man 
looks  for  the  future.  " 

"  And  how  seldom  does  he  get  what  he  looks 
for.  But  I  know  you,  William  Sandal.  You  will 
take  your  own  way,  be  it  good  or  bad  ;  and  what 
is  more,  you  will  make  others  take  it  with  you." 


$6  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

"  I  am  inviting  my  own  nephew,  Alice.  Eh  ? 
What  ? " 

"You  know  nothing  about  it.  There  are 
kin  that  are  not  kindred.  You  are  inviting 
you  know  not  who  or  what.  But,"  —  and  she 
pushed  the  letter  towards  him,  with  a  gesture 
which  seemed  to  say,  "  I  am  not  responsible  for 
the  consequences." 

The  squire  after  a  moment's  thought  ac 
cepted  them.  He  went  into  the  yard,  humming 
a  strain  of  "The  Bay  of  Biscay,"  and  gave  the 
letter  to  a  groom,  with  orders  to  take  it  at  once 
to  the  post-office.  Then  he  called  Charlotte 
from  the  rose-walk.  "  The  horses  are  saddled," 
he  said,  "and  I  want  you  to  trot  over  to  Dalton 
with  me." 

Mrs.  Sandal  had  gone  to  her  eldest  daughter. 
She  was  in  the  habit  of  seeking  Sophia's 
advice ;  or,  more  strictly  speaking,  she  liked  to 
discuss  with  her  the  things  she  had  already 
determined  to  do.  Sophia  was  sitting  in  the 
coolest  and  prettiest  of  gowns,  working  out 
with  elaborate  care  a  pencil  drawing  of  Rydal 
Mount.  She  listened  to  her  mother  with  the 
utmost  respect  and  attention,  and  her  fine  color 
brightened  slightly  at  the  mention  of  Julius 


JULIUS  SANDAL.  $? 

Sandal ;  but  she  never  neglected  once  to 
change  an  F  or  an  H  pencil  for  a  B  at  the 
precise  stroke  the  change  was  necessary. 

"  And  so  you  see,  Sophia,  we  may  have  a 
strange  young  man  in  the  house  for  weeks,  and 
where  to  put  him  I  can't  decide.  And  I  wanted 
to  begin  the  preserving  and  the  raspberry  vine 
gar  next  week,  but  your  father  is  as  thought 
less  as  ever  was ;  and  I  am  sure  if  Julius  is 
like  his  father  he'll  be  no  blessing  in  a  house, 
for  I  have  heard  your  grandmother  speak  in 
such  a  way  of  her  son  Tom." 

"  I  thought  uncle  Tom  was  grandmother's 
favorite." 

"  I  mean  of  his  high  temper  and  fine  ways, 
and  his  quarrels  with  his  eldest  brother  Laun- 
celot." 

"  Oh  !     What  did  they  quarrel  about  ?  " 

"  A  good  many  things ;  among  the  rest, 
about  the  Latriggs.  There  was  more  than 
one  pretty  girl  at  Up-Hill  then,  and  the  young 
men  all  knew  it.  Tom  and  his  mother  were 
always  finger  and  thumb.  He  was  her  young 
est  boy,  and  she  fretted  after  him  all  her  life." 

"And  uncle  Launcelot,  did  she  not  fret  for 
him?" 


58  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

"Not  so  much.  Launcelot  was  the  eldest, 
and  very  set  in  his  own  way :  she  couldn't 
order  him  around." 

"The  eldest?  Then  father  would  not  have 
been  squire  of  Sandal-Side  if  Launcelot  had 
lived  ? " 

"No,  indeed.  Launceldt's  death  made  a 
deal  of  difference  to  your  father  and  me. 
Father  was  very  solemn  and  set  about  his 
brother's  rights;  and  even  after  grandfather 
died,  he  didn't  like  to  be  called  '  squire  '  until 
every  hope  was  long  gone.  But  I  would  as 
soon  have  thought  of  poor  Launcie  coming 
back  from  the  dead  as  of  Tom's  son  visiting 
here ;  and  it  is  inconvenient  right  now,  exceed 
ingly  so  ;  harvesting  coming  on,  and  preserving 

time,  and  none  of  the  spare  rooms  opened  since 
the  spring  cleaning." 

"  It  is  trying  for  you,   mother,  but  perhaps 

Julius  may  not  be  very  much  trouble.     He'll 

be  with  father  all  the  time,  and  he'll  make  a 

change." 

"  Change !      That    is     just    what    I    dread. 

Young  people  are  always    for  change.     They 

are  certain  that  every  change  must  be  a  gain. 

Old  people  know  that  changes  mean  loss    of 


JULIUS  SANDAL.  59 

some  kind  or  other.  After  one  is  forty  years 
old,  Sophia,  the  seasons  bring  change  enough." 

"I  dare  say  they  do,  mother.  I  don't  care 
much  for  change,  even  at  my  age.  Have  you 
told  Charlotte?" 

"  No,  I  haven't  told  her  yet.  I  think  she  is 
off  to  Dalton.  Father  said  he  was  going  this 
morning,  and  he  never  would  go  without  her." 

Indeed,  the  squire  and  his  younger  daughter 
were  at  that  moment  cantering  down  the  val 
ley,  mid  the  fresh  green  of  the  fields,  and  the 
yellow  of  the  ripening  wheat,  and  the  hazy  pur 
ple  of  mountains  holding  the  whole  landscape 
in  their  solemn  shelter  except  in  front,  where 
the  road  stretched  to  the  sea,  amid  low  hills 
overgrown  with  parsley-fern  and  stag's-horn- 
moss.  They  had  not  gone  very  far  before  they 
met  Stephen  Latrigg.  He  was  well  mounted 
and  handsomely  dressed ;  and,  as  he  bowed  to 
the  squire  and  Charlotte,  his  happy  face  ex 
pressed  a  delight  which  Sandal  in  his  present 
mood  felt  to  be  offensive.  Evidently  Steve 
intended  to  accompany  them  as  far  as  their 
roads  were  identical  ;  but  the  squire  pointedly 
drew  rein,  and  by  the  cool  civility  of  his  man 
ner  made  the  young  man  so  sensible  of  his  in- 


6O  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

trusion,  that  he  had  no  alternative  but  to  take 
the  hint.  He  looked  at  Charlotte  with  eyes 
full  of  tender  reproach,  and  she  was  too  unpre 
pared  for  such  a  speedy  termination  to  their 
meeting  to  oppose  it.  So  Stephen  was  gallop 
ing  at  headlong  speed  in  advance,  before  she 
realized  that  he  had  been  virtually  refused  their 
company. 

"  Father,  why  did  you  do  that  ? " 

"  Do  what,  Charlotte  ?     Eh  ?     What  ? " 

"Send  Steve  away.  I  am  sure  I  do  not 
know  what  to  make  of  you  doing  such  a  thing. 
Poor  Steve ! " 

"  Well,  then,  I  had  my  reason  for  it.  Did 
you  see  the  way  he  looked  at  you  ?  Eh  ? 
What  ? " 

"  Dear  me !  A  cat  may  look  at  a  king. 
Did  you  send  Steve  away  for  a  look  ?  You 
have  put  me  about,  father." 

"  There's  looks  and  other  looks,  my  lass. 
Cats  don't  look  at  kings  the  way  Steve  looked 
at  you.  Now,  then,  I  want  no  love-making 
between  you  and  Steve  Latrigg." 

"  What  nonsense  !  Steve  hasn't  said  a  word 
of  love-making,  as  you  call  it." 

"  I  thought  you  had  all  your  woman-senses, 


JULIUS  SANDAL.  6 1 

Charlotte.  Bethink  you  of  the  garden  walk 
last  night." 

"  We  were  talking  all  the  time  of  the  sweet- 
brier  and  hollyhocks,  —  and  things  like  that." 

"  You  might  have  talked  of  the  days  of  the 
week  or  the  multiplication-table  :  one  kind  of 
words  was  just  as  good  as  another.  Any 
thing  Steve  said  last  night  could  have  been 
spelled  with  four  letters." 

"  Four  letters  ? " 

"  To  be  sure.     L-o-v-e." 

"You  used  to  like  Stephen." 

"  I  like  all  bright,  honest,  good  lads ;  but 
when  they  want  to  make  love  to  Miss  Charlotte 
Sandal,  they  think  one  thing,  and  I  think 
another.  There  has  been  ill-luck  with  love- 
making  between  the  Sandals  and  the  Latriggs. 
My  brothers  Launcie  and  Tom  quarrelled  about 
one  of  Barf  Latrigg's  daughters,  and  mother 
lost  them  both  through  her.  There  is  no  love- 
line  between  the  two  houses,  or  if  there  is 
nothing  can  make  it  run  straight.  Don't  you 
try  to,  Charlotte  ;  neither  the  dead  nor  the 
living  will  like  it  or  have  it." 

He  intended  then  to  tell  her  about  Julius 
Sandal,  but  a  look  at  her  face  checked  him. 


62  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

He  had  a  wise  perception  about  women  ;  and 
he  reflected  that  he  had  very  seldom  repented 
of  speaking  too  little  to  them,  but  very  often 
repented  of  speaking  too  much.  So  he  dropped 
Stephen,  and  dropped  Julius ;  and  began  to  talk 
about  the  fish  in  the  becks  and  tarns,  and  the 
new  breed  of  sheep  he  was  trying  in  the  lower 
"  walks."  Ere  long  they  came  into  the  rich 
valley  of  Furness  ;  and  he  made  her  notice  the 
difference  between  it  and  the  vale  of  Esk  and 
Duddon,  with  its  dreary  waste  of  sullen  moss 
and  unfruitful  solitudes. 

"Those  old  Cistercian  monks  that  built  Fur- 
ness  Abbey  knew  how  to  choose  a  bit  of  good 
land,  Charlotte.  Eh  ?  What  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so.     What  did  they  do  with  it  ?  " 

"  Let  it  out." 

"  I  wonder  who  would  want  to  come  here 
seven  hundred  years  ago." 

"  You  don't  know  what  you  are  saying,  Char- 
lotte.  There  were  great  men  here  then,  and 
great  deeds  doing.  King  Stephen  kept  things 
very  lively  ;  and  the  Scots  were  always  running 
over  the  Border  for  cattle  and  sheep,  and  any 
thing  else  they  could  lay  their  hands  on.  And 
the  monks  had  great  flocks,  so  they  rented 


JULIUS  SANDAL.  63 

their  lands  to  companies  of  four  fighting  men  ; 
and  one  of  the  four  was  to  be  ready  day  and 
night  to  protect  the  sheep,  and  the  Scots  kept 
them  busy.  Eh  ?  What  ? " 

"The  Musgraves  and  Armstrongs  and 
Netherbys,  I  know,"  and  the  cloud  passed 
from  her  face  ;  and  to  the  clatter  of  her  horse's 
hoofs,  she  lilted  merrily  a  stanza  of  an  old 
border  song :  — 

"  The  mountain  sheep  were  sweeter, 

But  the  valley  sheep  were  fatter; 
We  therefore  deemed  it  meeter 

To  carry  off  the  latter. 
We  made  an  expedition  ; 

We  met  a  force,  and  quelled  it ; 
We  took  a  strong  position,  • 

And  killed  the  men  who  held  it." 

And  the  squire,  who  knew  the  effort  it  cost 
her,  fell  readily  into  her  mood  of  forced  gayety 
until  the  simulated  feeling  became  a  real  one ; 
and  they  entered  Dalton  neck  and  neck  to 
gether,  after  a  mile's  hard  race. 

In  the  mean  time  the  letter  which  was  to 
summon  Fate  sped  to  its  destination.  When 
it  arrived  in  Oxford,  Julius  had  left  Oxford  for 
London,  and  it  followed  him  there.  He  was 


64  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

sitting  in  his  hotel  the  ensuing  night,  when  it 
was  delivered  into  his  hands ;  and  as  it  hap> 
pened,  he  was  in  a  mood  most  favorable  to  its 
success.  He  had  been  down  the  river  on  a 
picnic,  had  found  his  company  very  tedious ; 
and  early  in  the  day  the  climate  had  shown 
him  what  it  was  capable  of,  even  at  mid 
summer.  As  he  sat  cowering  before  the  smoky 
fire,  the  rain  plashed  in  the  muddy  streets,  and 
dripped  mournfully  down  the  dim  window- 
panes.  He  was  wondering  what  he  must  do 
with  himself  during  the  long  vacation.  He 
was  tired  of  the  Continent,  he  was  lonely  in 
England ;  and  the  United  States  had  not  then 
become  the  great  playground  for  earth's  weary 
or  curious  children. 

Many  times  the  idea  of  seeking  out  his  own 
relations  occurred  to  him.  He  had  promised 
his  father  to  do  so.  But,  as  a  rule,  people 
haven't  much  enthusiasm  about  unknown  rela 
tions  ;  and  Julius  regarded  his  promise  more  in 
the  light  of  a  duty  to  be  performed  than  as  the 
realization  of  a  pleasure.  Still,  on  that  dreary 
night,  in  the  solitary  dulness  of  his  very  respect 
able  inn,  the  Sandals,  Lockerbys,  and  Pier- 
sons  became  three  possible  sources  of  interest. 


JULIUS  SANDAL.  6$ 

While  his  thoughts  were  drifting  in  this  direc 
tion,  the  squire's  letter  was  received ;  and  the 
young  man,  who  was  something  of  a  fatalist, 
accepted  it  as  the  solution  of  a  difficulty. 

"Sandal  turns  the  new  leaf  for  me,"  he 
murmured ;  "  the  new  leaf  in  the  book  of  life. 
I  wonder  what  story  will  be  written  in  it." 

He  answered  the  invitation  while  the  enthu 
siasm  of  its  reception  swayed  him,  and  he 
promised  to  follow  the  letter  immediately. 
The  squire  received  this  information  on  Satur 
day  night,  as  he  was  sitting  with  his  wife  and 
daughters.  "Your  nephew  Julius  Sandal, 
from  Calcutta,  is  coming  to  pay  us  a  visit, 
Alice,"  he  said ;  and  his  air  was  that  of  a  man 
who  thinks  he  is  communicating  a  piece  of 
startling  intelligence.  But  the  three  women 
had  already  exchanged  every  possible  idea  on 
the  subject,  and  felt  no  great  interest  in  its 
further  discussion. 

"  When  is  he  coming  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Sandal 
without  enthusiasm  ;  and  Sophia  supplemented 
the  question  by  remarking,  "  I  suppose  he  has 
nowhere  else  to  go." 

"I  wouldn't  say  such  things,  Sophia;  I 
would  not." 


66  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

"  He  has  been  in  England  some  months, 
father." 

"  Well,  then,  he  was  only  waiting  till  he  was 
asked  to  come.  I'm  sure  that  was  a  proper 
thing.  If  there  is  any  blame  between  us,  it 
is  my  fault.  I  sent  him  a  word  of  welcome 
last  Wednesday  morning,  and  it  is  very  likely 
he  will  be  here  to-morrow.  I'm  sure  he  hasn't 
let  any  grass  grow  under  his  feet.  Eh  ? 
What  ? " 

Charlotte  looked  up  quickly.  "  Wednesday 
morning"  She  was  quite  capable  of  putting 
this  and  that  together,  and  by  a  momentary 
mental  process  she  arrived  at  an  exceedingly 
correct  estimate  of  her  father's  invitation. 
Her  blue  eyes  scintillated  beneath  her  dropped 
lids ;  and,  though  she  went  calmly  on  tying  the 
feather  to  the  fishing-fly  she  was  making,  she 
said,  in  a  hurried  and  unsteady  voice,  "  I  know 
he  will  be  disagreeable,  and  I  have  made  up 
my  mind  to  dislike  him." 

Julius  Sandal  arrived  the  next  morning  when 
the  ladies  were  preparing  for  church.  He  had 
passed  the  night  at  Ambleside,  and  driven  over 
to  Sandal  in  the  first  cool  hours  of  the  day. 
The  squire  was  walking  about  the  garden,  and 


JULIUS  SANDAL.  O/ 

he  saw  the  carriage  enter  the  park  gates.  He 
said  nothing  to  any  one,  but  laid  down  his  pipe, 
and  went  to  meet  it.  Then  Julius  made  the 
first  step  towards  his  uncle's  affection,  —  he 
left  the  vehicle  when  they  met,  and  insisted 
upon  walking  by  his  side. 

When  they  reached  the  house,  his  valet  was 
attending  to  the  removal  of  his  luggage,  and 
they  entered  the  great  hall  together.  At  that 
moment  Mistress  Charlotte's  remarkable  like 
ness  seemed  to  force  itself  upon  the  squire's 
attention.  He  was  unable  to  resist  the  impulse 
which  made  him  lead  his  nephew  up  to  it. 
"  Let  me  introduce  you,  first  of  all,  to  your 
father's  mother.  I  greet  you  in  her  name  as 
well  as  in  my  own."  As  he  spoke,  the  squire 
lifted  his  hat,  and  Julius  did  the  same.  It  was 
a  sudden,  and  to  both  men  a  quite  unexpected, 
ceremonial ;  and  it  gave  an  air,  touching  and 
unusual,  to  his  welcome. 

And  if  that  man  is  an  ingrate  who  does  not 
love  his  native  land,  how  much  more  immediate, 
tender,  and  personal  must  the  feeling  be  for 
the  home  of  one's  own  race.  That  stately 
lady,  who  seemed  to  meet  him  at  the  threshold, 
was  only  the  last  of  a  long,  shadowy  line,  whose 


68  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

hands  were  stretched  out  to  him,  even  from 
the  dark,  forgotten  days  in  which  Logberg 
Sandal  laid  the  foundations  of  it.  Julius  was 
sensitive,  and  full  of  imagination  :  he  felt  his 
heart  beat  quick,  and  his  eyes  grow  dim  to  the 
thought ;  and  he  loitered  up  the  wide,  low 
steps,  feeling  very  like  a  man  going  up  the 
phantom  stairway  of  a  dream. 

The  squire's  cheery  voice  broke  the  spell. 
"  We  shall  be  ready  for  church  in  a  quarter  of 
an  hour,  Julius ;  will  you  remain  at  home,  or 
go  with  us  ? " 

"  I  should  like  to  go  with  you." 

"That's  good.  It  is  but  a  walk  through  the 
park:  the  church  is  almost  at  its  gates." 

When  he  returned  to  the  hall,  the  family 
were  waiting  for  him ;  Mrs.  Sandal  and  her 
daughters  standing  together  in  a  little  group, 
the  squire  walking  leisurely  about  with  his 
hands  crossed  behind  his  back.  It  would  have 
been  to  some  men  a  rather  trying  ordeal  to  de 
scend  the  long  flight  of  stairs,  with  three  pairs 
of  ladies'  eyes  watching  him  ;  but  Julius  knew 
that  he  had  a  striking  personal  appearance,  and 
that  every  appointment  of  his  toilet  was  fault 
less.  He  knew  also  the  value  of  the  respecta- 


JULIUS  SANDAL.  69 

ble  middle-aged  valet  following  him,  and  felt 
that  his  irreproachable  manner  of  serving  his 
hat  and  gloves  was  a  satisfactory  reflection  of 
his  own  importance. 

It  is  the  wornen  of  a  family  that  give  the 
tone  and  place  to  it»  One  glance  at  his  aunt 
and  cousins  satisfied  Julius.  Mrs.  Sandal  was 
stately  and  comely,  and  had  the  quiet  manners 
of  a  high-bred  woman.  Sophia,  in  white  mull, 
with  a  large  hat  covered  with  white  drooping 
feathers,  and  a  glimmer  of  gold  at  her  throat 
and  wrists,  was  at  least  picturesque.  Of  Char 
lotte,  he  saw  nothing  in  the  first  moments  of 
their  meeting  but  a  pair  of  bright  blue  eyes, 
and  a  face  as  sweet  and  fresh  as  if  it  had  been 
made  out  of  a  rose.  He  took  his  place  between 
the  girls,  and  the  squire  and  his  wife  walked 
behind  them.  Sophia,  being  the  eldest,  took 
the  initiative,  talking  softly  and  thoughtfully, 
as  it  was  proper  to  do  upon  a  Sunday  morning. 

The  sods  under  their  feet  were  thick  and 
green ;  the  oaks  and  sycamores  above  them  had 
the  broad  shadows  of  many  centuries.  The  air 
was  balmy  with  emanations  from  the  woods  and 
fields,  and  full  of  the  expanding  melody  of 
church-bells  travelling  from  hill  to  hill.  Julius 


7<D  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

was  conscious  of  every  thing ;  even  of  the  proud, 
shy  girl  who  walked  on  his  left  hand,  and  whose 
attitude  impressed  him  as  slightly  antagonistic. 
They  soon  reached  the  church,  a  very  ancient 
one,  built  in  the  bloody  days  of  the  Plantage- 
nets  by  the  two  knights  whose  grim  effigies 
kept  guard  within  the  porch.  It  was  dim  and 
still  when  they  entered :  the  congregation  all 
kneeling  at  the  solemn  confession  ;  the  clergy 
man's  voice,  low  and  pathetic,  intensifying  si 
lence  to  which  it  only  added  mortal  minors  of 
lament  and  entreaty.  He  was  a  small,  spare 
man,  with  a  face  almost  as  white  as  the  vesture 
of  his  holy  office.  Julius  glanced  up  at  him, 
and  for  a  few  minutes  forgot  all  his  dreamy 
philosophies,  aggressive  free  thought,  and  shal 
low  infidelities.  He  could  not  resist  the  influ 
ences  around  him ;  and  when  the  people  rose, 
and  the  organ  filled  the  silence  with  melody., 
and  a  young  sweet  voice  chanted  joyfully,  — 

*  O  come  let  us  sing  unto  the  Lord :  let  us  heartily  re> 

joice  in  the  strength  of  our  salvation. 
"Let  us  come  before  His  presence  with   thanksgiving: 

and  shew  ourselves  glad  in  him  with  Psalms"  — 

he  turned  round,  and  looked  up  to  the  singer, 
with  a  heart  beating  to  every  triumphant  note. 


JULIUS  SANDAL.  7 1 

Then  he  saw  it  was  Charlotte  Sandal ;  and  he 
did  not  wonder  at  the  hearty  way  in  which  the 
squire  joined  in  the  melodious  invocation,  nor 
at  his  happy  face,  nor  at  his  shining  eyes ;  and 
he  said  to  himself  with  a  sigh,  "That  is  a  Psalm 
one  could  sing  oftener  than  once  in  seven 
days." 

He  had  not  noticed  Charlotte  much  as  they 
went  to  church :  he  amended  his  error  as  he 
returned  to  the  "seat."  And  he  thought  that 
the  old  sylvan  goddesses  must  have  been  as  she 
•was ;  must  have  had  just  the  same  fresh  faces, 
and  bright  brown  hair;  just  the  same  tall,  erect 
forms  and  light  steps;  just  the  same  garments 
•of  mingled  wood-colors  and  pale  green. 

The  squire  had  a  very  complacent  feeling. 
He  looked  upon  Julius  as  a  nephew  of  his  own 
discovering,  and  he  felt  something  of  a  personal 
pride  in  all  that  was  excellent  in  the  young 
man.  He  watched  impatiently  for  his  wife  to 
express  her  satisfaction,  but  Mrs.  Sandal  was 
not  yet  sure  that  she  had  any  good  reason  to 
express  it. 

"  Is  he  not  handsome,  Alice  ? " 

"  Some  people  would  think  so,  William.  I 
like  a  face  I  can  read." 


72  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

"I'm  sure  it  is  a  long  way  better  to 
yourself  to  yourself.  Say  what  you  will,  I  am 
sure  he  will  have  plenty  of  good  qualities.  Eh  ? 
What?" 

"For  instance,  a  great  deal  of  money." 

"  Treat  him  fair,  Alice  ;  treat  him  fair.  You 
never  were  one  to  be  unfair,  and  I  don't  think 
you'll  begin  with  my  nephew." 

"  No,  I'll  never  be  unfair,  not  as  long  as  I 
live;  and  I'll  take  up  for  Julius  Sandal  as  soon 
as  I  am  half  sure  he  deserves  it." 

"  You  can't  think  what  a  pleasure  it  would  be 
to  me  if  he  fancied  one  of  our  girls.  I've 
planned  it  this  many  a  long  day,  Alice." 

"Well,  then,  William,  if  you  have  a  wish  as 
strong  as  that,  it  is  something  more  than  a 
wish,  it  is  a  kind  of  right ;  and  I'll  never  go 
against  you  in  any  fair  matter." 

"  And  though  you  spoke  scornful  of  money, 
it  is  a  good  thing ;  and  the  girl  Julius  marries 
will  be  a  rich  woman.  Eh  ?  What  ? " 

"  Perhaps  ;  but  it  is  the  happiness  and  not 
the  riches  of  her  child  that  is  a  good  mother's 
reward,  and  a  good  father's  too.  Eh,  William  ?" 

"Certainly,  Alice,  certainly."  But  his  un 
spoken  reflection  was,  "  women  are  that  short- 


JULIUS  SANDAL.  73 

sighted,  they  cannot  put  up  with  a  small  evil  to 
prevent  a  big  one." 

He  had  forgotten  that  "the  wise  One  "  and 
the  "Counsellor"  thought  one  day's  joys  and 
sorrows  "  sufficient "  for  the  heart  to  bear. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THUS    RUNS    THE   WORLD   A1VAY, 

"  But  we  mortals 

Planted  so  lowly,  with  death  to  bless  us, 
Sorrow  no  longer." 

"  Our  choices  are  our  destiny.  Nothing  is  ours  that  our  choices 
have  not  made  ours." 

JULIUS  SANDAL  had  precisely  those 
j  superficial  excellences  which  the  world  is 
ready  to  accept  at  their  apparent  value  ;  and  he 
had  been  in  so  many  schools,  and  imbibed  such 
a  variety  of  opinions,  that  he  had  a  mental  suit 
for  all  occasions.  "  He  knows  about  every 
thing,"  said  Sandal  to  the  clergyman,  at  the 
close  of  an  evening  spent  together,  —  an  even 
ing  in  which  Julius  had  been  particularly  inter 
esting.  "  Don't  you  think  so,  sir  ? " 

The  rector  looked  up  at  the  starry  sky,  and 
around  the  mountain-girdled  valley,  and  an 
swered  slowly,  "  He  has  a  great  many  ideas, 
squire ;  but  they  are  second-hand,  and  do  not 
fit  his  intellect." 

74 


THUS  RUNS   THE    WORLD  AWAY.          ?$ 

Charlotte  had  much  the  same  opinion  of  the 
paragon,  only  she  expressed  it  in  a  different 
way.  "  He  believes  in  every  thing,  and  he 
might  as  well  believe  in  nothing.  Confucius 
and  Christ  are  about  the  same  to  him,  and  he 
thinks  Juggernaut  only  'a  clumsier  spelling  of 
a  name  which  no  man  spells  correctly.' " 

"His  mind  is  like  a  fine  mosaic,  Charlotte." 

"  Oh,  indeed,  Sophia,  I  don't  think  so ! 
Mosaics  have  a  design  and  fit  it.  The  mind  of 
Julius  is  more  like  that  quilt  of  a  thousand 
pieces  which  grandmother  patched.  There 
they  are,  the  whrole  thousand,  just  bits  of  color, 
all  sizes  and  shapes.  I  would  rather  have  a 
good  square  of  white  Marseilles." 

"  I  don't  think  you  ought  to  speak  in  such  a 
way,  Charlotte.  You  can't  help  seeing  how 
much  he  admires  you." 

There  was  a  tone  in  Sophia's  carefully  modu 
lated  voice  which  made  Charlotte  turn,  and 
look  at  her  sister.  She  was  sitting  at  her  em 
broidery-frame,  and  apparently  counting  the 
stitches  in  the  rose-leaf  she  was  copying ;  but 
Charlotte  noticed  that  her  hand  trembled,  and 
that  she  was  counting  at  random.  In  a 
moment  the  veil  fell  from  her  eyes :  she 


76  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

understood  that  Sophia  was  in  love  with  Julius, 
and  fearful  of  her  own  influence  over  him. 
She  had  been  about  to  leave  the  room  :  she 
returned  to  the  window,  and  stood  at  it  a  few 
moments,  as  if  considering  the  assertion. 

"  I  should  be  very  sorry  if  that  were  the  case, 
Sophia." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  I  do  not  admire  Julius  in  any  way. 
I  never  could  admire  him.  I  don't  want  to  be 
in  debt  to  him  for  even  one-half  hour  of  senti 
mental  affection." 

"  You  should  let  him  understand  that,  Char 
lotte,  if  it  be  so." 

"  He  must  be  very  dull  if  he  does  not  under 
stand." 

"  When  father  and  you  went  fishing  yester 
day,  he  went  with  you." 

"  Why  did  you  not  come  also  ?  We  begged 
vou  to  do  so." 

"  Because  I  hate  to  be  hot  and  untidy,  and  to 
get  my  hands  soiled,  and  my  face  flushed. 
That  was  your  condition  when  you  returned 
home  ;  but  all  the  same,  he  said  you  looked 
like  a  water-nymph  or  a  wood-nymph." 

"I  think  very  little   of   him  for  such   talk, 


THUS  RUNS   THE    WORLD  AWAY.  ?/ 

There  is  nothing  '  nymphy '  about  me.  I 
should  hate  myself  if  there  were.  I  am  going 
to  write,  and  ask  Harry  to  get  a  furlough  for  a 
few  weeks.  I  want  to  talk  sensibly  to  some 
one.  I  am  tired  of  being  on  the  heights  or 
in  the  depths  all  the  time ;  and  as  for  poetry,  I 
wish  I  might  never  hear  words  that  rhyme 
again.  I've  got  to  feel  that  way  about  it, 
that'  if  I  open  a  book,  and  see  the  lines  begin 
with  capitals,  my  first  impulse  is  to  tear  it  to 
pieces.  There,  now,  you  have  my  opinions, 
Sophia ! " 

Sophia  laughed  softly.  "Where  are  you 
going  ?  I  see  you  have  your  bonnet  on." 

"  I  am  going  to  Up-Hill.  Grandfather  Lat- 
rigg  had  a  fall  yesterday,  and  that's  a  bad  thing 
at  his  age.  Father  is  quite  put  out  about  it." 

"  Is  he  going  with  you  ? " 

"He  was,  but  two  of  the  shepherds  from 
Holler  Scree  have  just  come  for  him.  There  is 
something  wrong  with  the  flocks." 

"Julius?" 

"  He  does  not  know  I  am  going ;  and  if  he 
did,  I  should  tell  him  plainly  he  was  not  wanted 
either  at  Up-Hill,  or  on  the  way  to  it.  Ducie 
thinks  little  of  him,  and  grandfather  Latrigg 


78  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

makes  his  face  like  a  stone  wall  when  Julius 
talks  his  finest." 

"  They  don't  understand  Julius.  How  can 
they  ?  Steve  is  their  model,  and  Steve  is  not 
the  least  like  Julius." 

"  I  should  think  not." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? " 

"  Never  mind.     Good-by." 

She  shut  the  door  with  more  emphasis  than 
she  was  aware  of,  and  went  to  her  mother  for 
some  cordials  and  dainties  to  take  with  her. 
As  she  passed  through  the  hall  the  squire 
called  her,  and  she  followed  his  voice  into  the 
small  parlor  which  was  emphatically  "  master's 
room." 

"  I  have  had  very  bad  news  about  the  Holler 
Scree  flock,  Charlotte,  and  I  must  away  there 
to  see  what  can  be  done.  Tell  Barf  Latrigg 
it  is  the  sheep,  and  he  will  understand  :  he  was 
always  one  to  put  the  dumb  creatures  first. 
The  kindest  thing  that  is  in  your  own  heart  say 
it  to  the  dear  old  man  for  me  ;  will  you,  Char 
lotte  ? " 

"  You  can  trust  to  me,  father." 

"  Yes,  I  know  I  can  ;  for  that  and  more  too. 
/Vnd  there  is  more.  I  feel  a  bit  about  Stephen. 


THUS  RUNS   THE    WORLD  AWAY,  79 

Happen  I  was  less  than  kind  to  him  the  other 
day.  But  I  gave  you  good  reasons,  Charlotte ; 
and  I  have  such  confidence  in  you,  that  I  said 
to  mother,  '  You  can  send  Charlotte.  There  is 
nothing  underhand  about  her.  She  knows  my 
will,  and  she'll  do  it.'  Eh  ?  What  ? " 

"  Yes,  father  :  I'll  be  square  on  all  four  sides 
with  you.  But  I  told  you  there  had  been  no 
love-making  between  me  and  Steve." 

"  Steve  was  doing  his  best  at  it.  Depend 
upon  it  he  meant  love-making ;  and  I  must 
say  I  thought  you  made  out  to  understand  him 
very  well.  Maybe  I  was  mistaken.  Every 
woman  is  a  new  book,  and  a  book  by  herself; 
and  it  isn't  likely  I  can  understand  them  all." 

"  Stephen  is  sure  to  speak  to  me  about  your 
being  so  queer  to  him.  Had  I  not  better  tell 
the  truth  ? " 

"  I  have  a  high  opinion  of  that  way.  Truth 
may  be  blamed,  but  it  can't  be  shamed.  How 
ever,  if  he  was  not  making  love  to  you  at  the 
shearing,  won't  you  find  it  a  bit  difficult  to 
speak  your  mind  ?  Eh  ?  What  ? " 

"  He  will  understand." 

"Ay,  I  thought  so." 

"  Father,  we  have  never  had  any  secrets,  you 


8O  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

and  me.  If  I  am  not  to  encourage  Stephen 
Latrigg,  do  you  want  me  to  marry  Julius  San 
dal  ? " 

"  Well,  I  never  !  Such  a  question  !  What 
for  ? " 

"  Because,  at  the  very  first,  I  want  to  tell 
you  that  I  could  not  do  it  —  no  way.  I  am 
quite  ready  to  give  up  my  will  to  your  will,  and 
my  pleasure  to  your  pleasure.  That  is  my 
duty ;  but  to  marry  cousin  Julius  is  a  different 
thing." 

"  Don't  get  too  far  forward,  Charlotte.  Julius 
has  not  said  a  word  to  me  about  marrying 
you." 

"But  he  is  doing  his  best  at  it.  Depend 
upon  it  he  means  marrying ;  and  I  must  say 
I  thought  you  made  out  to  understand  him 
very  well.  Maybe  I  was  mistaken.  Every 
man  is  a  new  book,  and  a  book  by  himself ;  and 
it  is  not  likely  I  can  understand  them  all." 

"  Now  you  are  picking  up  my  own  words, 
and  throwing  them  back  at  me.  That  isn't 
right.  I  don't  know  whatever  to  say  for  my 
self.  Eh  ?  What  ?  " 

"Say,  'dear  Charlotte,'  and  'good-by  Char 
lotte,'  and  take  an  easy  mind  with  you  to 


THUS  RUNS   THE    WORLD  AWAY.  8 1 

Holler  Scree,  father.  As  far  as  I  am  con 
cerned,  I  will  never  grieve  you,  and  never 
deceive  you,  —  no,  not  in  the  least  little  thing." 

So  she  left  him.  Her  face  was  bright  with 
smiles,  and  her  words  had  even  a  ring  of  mirth 
in  them ;  but  below  all  there  was  a  stubborn 
weight  that  she  could  not  throw  off,  a  darkness 
of  spirit  that  no  sunshine  could  brighten. 
Since  Julius  had  come  into  their  home,  home 
had  never  been  the  same.  There  was  a 
stranger  at  the  table  and  in  all  its  sweet,  fa 
miliar  places,  and  she  was  sure  that  to  her  he 
always  would  be  a  stranger.  Something  was 
said  or  done  that  put  them  farther  apart  every 
clay.  She  could  not  understand  how  any  San 
dal  could  be  so  absolutely  out  of  her  love  and 
sympathy.  Who  has  not  experienced  these 
invasions  of  hostile  natures  ?  Alien  voices, 
characters  fundamentally  different,  yet  bound 
to  them  by  natural  ties  which  the  soul  refuses 
to  recognize. 

The  sombreness  of  her  thoughts  affected  her 
surroundings  very  much  as  rain  affects  the 
atmosphere.  The  hills  looked  melancholy  : 
she  was  aware  of  every  stone  on  the  road. 
Alas  !  this  morning  she  had  begun  to  grow  old, 


82  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE, 

for  she  felt  that  she  had  a  past,  —  a  past  that 
could  never  return.  Hitherto  her  life  had 
been  to-day  and  to-morrow,  and  to-morrow 
always  in  the  sunshine.  Hitherto  the  thought 
of  Stephen  had  been  blended  with  something 
that  was  to  happen.  Now  she  knew  she  must 
always  be  remembering  the  days  that  for  them 
would  come  no  more.  She  found  herself  re 
viewing  even  her  former  visits  to  Up-Hill.  In 
them  also  change  had  begun.  And  it  is  over 
the  young,  sorrow  triumphs  most  cruelly. 
They  are  so  easily  wounded,  so  inapt  to 
resist,  so  harassed  by  scruples,  so  astonished 
at  troubles  they  cannot  comprehend,  that  their 
very  sensitiveness  prepares  them  for  suffering. 
Very  bitter  tears  are  shed  before  we  are  twenty 
years  old.  At  forty  we  have  learned  to  accept 
the  inevitable,  and  to  feel  many  things  possible 
which  we  once  declared  would  break  our  hearts 
in  two. 

There  was  an  air  of  great  depression  also  at 
Up-Hill.  D.ucie  was  full  of  apprehension.  She 
said  to  Charlotte,  "  When  men  as  old  as  father 
fall,  they  stumble  at  their  own  grave ;  and  I 
can't  think  what  I'll  do  without  father." 

"  You  have  Steve." 


THUS  RUNS    THE    WORLD  AWAY.  83 

"  Steve  is  going  away.  He  would  have  left 
this  morning,  but  for  this  fresh  trouble.  I  see 
you  are  startled,  Charlotte." 

"  I  am  that.  I  heard  nothing  of  it.  He 
moves  in  a  great  hurry." 

"  He  always  moves  that  way,  does  Steve." 

"  How  is  grandfather  ? " 

"  He  has  had  quite  a  backening  since  yes 
terday  night.  He  has  got  'the  call,'  Charlotte. 
I've  had  more  than  one  sign  of  it.  Just  before 
he  fell  he  went  into  the  garden,  and  brought 
in  with  him  a  sprig  of  'Death-come-quickly.'  * 
'  Father,'  I  asked,  '  whatever  made  you  pull 
that  ? '  Then  he  looked  so  queerly,  and  an  • 
swered,  '  I  didn't  pull  it,  Ducie :  I  found  it  on 
the  wall.'  He  was  quite  curious,  and  sent  me 
to  ask  this  one  and  the  other  one  if  they  had 
been  in  the  garden.  No  one  had  been  there ; 
and,  at  the  long  end,  he  said,  '  Make  no  more 
talk  about  it,  Ducie.  There's  them  that  go 
up  and  down  the  fellside  that  no  one  sees. 
They  lift  the  latch,  and  wait  not  for  the  open 
door,  the  king's  command  being  urgent.  I 
have  had  a  message.'  He  fell  an  hour  after 
wards,  Charlotte.  He  did  not  think  he  was 

1  The  plant  Geranium  Robertianum. 


84  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

much  hurt  at  the  time,  but  he  got  his  death- 
throw.  I  know  it." 

"  I  should  like  to  speak  to  him,  Ducie.  Tell 
him  that  Charlotte  Sandal  wants  his  bless 
ing." 

He  was  lying  on  the  big  oak  bed  in  the  best 
room,  waiting  for  his  dismissal  in  cheerful 
serenity.  "  Come  here,  Charlotte,"  he  said  ; 
"stoop  down,  and  let  me  see  you  once  more. 
My  sight  grows  dim.  I  am  going  away,  dear." 

"  O  grandfather  !  is  there  any  thing  I  can  do 
for  you  ? " 

"  Be  a  good  girl.  Be  good,  and  do  good. 
Stand  true  to  Steve,  —  remember,  —  true  to 
Steve."  And  he  did  not  seem  inclined  to  talk 
more. 

"  He  is  saving  his  strength  for  the  squire," 
said  Ducie.  "He  has  a  deal  to  say  to  him." 

"  Father  hoped  to  be  back  this  afternoon." 

"Though  it  be  the  darkening  when  he  gets 
home,  ask  him  to  come  at  once,  Charlotte. 
Father  is  waiting  for  him,  and  I  don't  think  he 
will  pass  the  turn  of  the  night." 

There  were  many  subtle  links  of  sympathy 
between  Up-Hill  and  Sandal.  Death  could  not 
be  in  one  house  without  casting  a  shadow  in 


THUS  RUNS   THE    WORLD  AWAY.  85 

the  other.  Julius  privately  thought  such  a 
fellow-feeling  a  little  stretched.  The  Latriggs 
were  on  a  distinctly  lower  social  footing  than 
the  Sandals.  Rich  they  might  be ;  but  they 
were  not  written  among  the  list  of  county 
families,  nor  had  they  even  married  into  their 
ranks.  He  could  not  understand  why  Barf 
Latrigg's  death  should  be  allowed  to  interfere 
with  life  at  Seat-Sandal.  Yet  Mrs.  Sandal 
was  at  Up-Hill  all  the  afternoon ;  and,  though 
the  squire  did  not  get  home  until  quite  the 
darkening,  he  went  at  once,  without  taking  food 
or  rest,  to  the  dying  man. 

"  Why,  Barf  is  very  near  all  the  same  as  my 
own  father,"  he  said.  And  then,  in  a  lower 
voice,  "and  he  may  see  my  father  before  the 
strike  of  day.  I  wouldn't  miss  Barfs  last 
words  for  a  year  of  life.  I  wouldn't  that." 

It  was  a  lovely  night,  —  warm,  and  sweet  with 
the  scent  of  August  lilies,  and  the  rich  aromas 
of  ripening  fruit  and  grain.  The  great  hills 
and  the  peaceful  valleys  lay  under  the  soft 
radiance  of  a  full  moon  ;  and  there  was  not  a 
sound  but  the  gurgle  of  running  water,  or  the 
bark  of  some  solitary  sheep-dog,  watching  the 
folds  on  the  high  fells.  Sophia  and  Julius 


86  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

were  walking  in  the  garden,  both  feeling  the 
sensitive  suggestiveness  of  the  hour,  talking 
softly  together  on  topics  people  seldom  discuss 
in  the  sunshine,  —  intimations  of  lost  powers, 
prior  existences,  immortal  life.  Julius  was 
learned  in  the  Oriental  view  of  metempsy 
chosis.  Sophia  could  trace  the  veiled  intuition 
through  the  highest  inspiration  of  Western 
thought. 

<'  It  whispers  in  the  heart  of  every  shepherd 
on  these  hills,"  she  said  ;  "and  they  interpreted 
for  Mr.  Wordsworth  the  dream  of  his  own 
soul." 

"I  know,  Sophia.  I  lifted  the  book  yester 
day  :  your  mark  was  in  it."  And  he  recited 
in  a  low,  intense  voice,  — 

"'Our  birth  is  but  a  sleep  and  a  forgetting: 

The  soul  that  rises  with  us,  our  life's  star, 
Hath  had  elsewhere  its  setting, 

And  cometh  from  afar: 
Not  in  entire  forgetfulness, 
And  not  in  utter  nakedness, 
But  trailing  clouds  of  glory  do  we  come 
From  God,  who  is  our  home : ' " 

"  Oh,  yes ! "  answered  Sophia,  lifting  her 
dark  eyes  in  a  real  enthusiasm. 


THUS  RUNS    THE    WORLD  AWAY.  87 

"'Though  inland  far  we  be, 
Our  souls  have  sight  of  that  immortal  sea 
Which  brought  us  hither.' " 

And  they  were  both  very  happy  in  this 
luxury  of  mystical  speculation.  Eternity  was 
(behind  as  before  them.  Soft  impulses  from 
•moon  and  stars,  and  from  the  witching  beauty 
•of  lonely  hills  and  scented  garden-ways, 
touched  within  their  souls  some  primal  sym 
pathy  that  drew  them  close  to  that  unseen 
boundary  dividing  spirits  from  shadow-casting 
•men.  It  is  true  they  rather  felt  than  under 
stood  ;  but  when  the  soul  has  faith,  what 
matters  comprehension  ? 

In  the  cold  sweetness  of  the  following  dawn, 
the  squire  returned  from  Up-Hill.  "Barf  is 
gone,  Alice,"  were  his  first  words. 

"  But  all  is  well,  William." 

"  No  doubt  of  it.  I  met  the  rector  on  the 
hillside.  '  How  is  Barf  ? '  I  asked  ;  and  he  an 
swered,  '  Thank  God,  he  has  the  mastery  ! ' 
Then  he  went  on  without  another  word.  Barf 
had  lost  his  sight  when  I  got  there ;  but  he 
knew  my  voice,  and  he  asked  me  to  lay  my  face 
against  his  face.  '  I've  done  well  to  Sandal,  — 
well  to  Sandal,'  he  muttered  at  intervals. 


88  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

'You'll  know  it  some  day,  William.'  I  can't 
think  what  he  meant.  I  hope  he  hasn't  left  me 
any  money.  I  could  not  take  it,  Alice." 

"Was  that  all?" 

"  When  Steve  came  in  he  said  something 
like  'Charlotte,'  and  he  looked  hard  at  me;  and 
then  again,  '  I've  done  well  by  Sandal.'  But 
I  was  too  late.  Ducie  said  he  had  been  very 
restless  about  me  earlier  in  the  afternoon :  he 
was  nearly  outside  life  when  I  got  there.  We 
thought  he  would  speak  no  more ;  but  about 
three  o'clock  this  morning  he  called  quite 
clearly,  ' Dude,  the  abbot's  cross'  Then  Ducie 
unlocked  the  oak  chest  that  stands  by  the  bed 
side,  and  took  from  it  an  ivory  crucifix.  She 
put  it  in  his  left  hand.  With  a  smile  he  touched 
the  Christ  upon  it ;  and  so,  clasping  the  abbot's 
cross,  he  died." 

"  I  wonder  at  that,  William.  A  better 
Church-of-England  man  was  not  in  all  the  dales 
than  Barf  Latrigg." 

"Ay;  but  you  see,  Alice,  that  cross  is  older 
than  the  Church  of  England.  It  was  given  to- 
the  first  Latrigg  of  Up-Hill  by  the  first  abbot 
of  Furness.  Before  the  days  of  Wyckliffe  and 
Latimer,  every  one  of  them,  babe  and  hoary- 


THUS  RUNS   THE    WORLD  AWAY.  89 

head,  died  with  it  in  their  hands.  There  are 
things  that  go  deeper  down  than  creeds,  Alice ; 
and  the  cross  with  the  Saviour  on  it  is  one  of 
them.  I  would  like  to  feel  it  myself,  even  when 
I  was  past  seeing  it.  I  would  like  to  take  the 
step  between  here  and  there  with  it  in  my 
hands." 

In  the  cool  of  the  afternoon,  Julius  and  the 
girls  went  to  Up-Hill.  He  had  a  solemn  curi- 
ousness  about  death ;  and  both  personally  and 
theoretically  the  transition  filled  him  with 
vague,  momentous  ideas,  relating  to  all  sides  of 
his  conscious  being.  In  every  land  where  he 
had  sojourned,  the  superstitions  and  ceremo 
nials  that  attended  it  were  subjects  of  interest 
to  him.  So  he  was  much  touched  when  he 
entered  the  deep,  cool  porch,  and  saw  the  little 
table  at  the  threshold,  covered  with  a  white 
linen  cloth,  and  holding  a  plate  of  evergreens 
and  a  handful  of  salt.  And  when  Sophia  and 
Charlotte  each  scattered  a  little  salt  upon  the 
ground,  and  broke  off  a  small  spray  of  boxwood, 
he  knew  instinctively  that  they  were  silently 
expressing  their  faith  in  the  preservation  of  the 
body,  and  in  the  life  everlasting;  and  he  imi 
tated  them  in  the  simple  rite. 


90  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

Ducie  met  them  with  a  grave  and  tender 
pleasure.  "  Come,  and  see  the  empty  soul- 
case,"  she  said  softly  ;  "  there  is  nothing  to  fear 
you."  And  she  led  them  into  the  chamber  where 
it  lay.  The  great  bed  was  white  as  a  drift  of 
snow.  On  the  dark  oak  walls,  there  were 
branches  of  laurel  and  snowberry.  The  floor 
was  fragrant  under  the  feet,  with  bits  of  rose 
mary,  and  bruised  ears  of  lavender,  and  leaves 
of  thyme.  The  casements  were  wide  open  to 
admit  the  fresh  mountain  breeze ;  and  at  one  ot 
them  Steve  rested  in  the  carved  chair  that  had 
been  his  grandfather's,  and  was  now  his  own. 

The  young  men  did  not  know  each  other ;  but 
this  was  neither  the  time  nor  the  place  for 
social  civilities,  and  they  only  slightly  bowed  as 
their  eyes  met.  Indeed,  it  seemed  wrong  to 
trouble  the  peaceful  silence  with  mere  words 
of  courtesy ;  but  Charlotte  gave  her  hand  t<? 
Stephen,  and  with  it  that  candid,  loving  gaze, 
which  has,  from  the  eyes  of  the  beloved,  the 
miraculous  power  of  turning  the  water  of  life 
into  wine.  And  Charlotte  perceived  this,  and 
she  went  home  happy  in  the  happiness  she  had 
given. 

Four   days   later,  Barf   Latrigg  was   buried. 


THUS  RUNS    THE    WORLD  AWAY.  91 

In  the  glory  of  the  August  afternoon,  the  ladies 
of  Seat-Sandal  stood  with  Julius  in  the  shadow 
of  the  park  gates,  and  watched  the  long  pro 
cession  winding  slowly  down  the  fells.  At  first 
it  was  accompanied  by  fitful,  varying  gusts  of 
solemn  melody ;  but  as  it  drew  nearer,  the 
affecting  tones  of  the  funeral  hymn  became  more 
and  more  distinct  and  sustained.  There  were 
at  least  three  hundred  voices  thrilling  the  still, 
warm  air  with  its  pathetic  music ;  and,  as  they 
approached  the  church  gates,  it  blended  itself 
with  the  heavy  tread  of  those  who  carried  and 
of  those  who  followed  the  dead,  like  a  wonder 
ful,  triumphant  march. 

After  the  funeral  was  over,  the  squire  went 
back  to  Up-Hill  to  eat  the  arvel-meal,1  and  to 
hear  the  will  of  his  old  friend  read.  It  was 
nearly  dark  when  he  returned,  and  he  was  very 
glad  to  find  his  wife  alone.  "  I  have  had  a  few 
hard  hours,  Alice,"  he  said  wearily;  "and  I  am 
more  bothered  about  Barfs  will  than  I  can  tell 
why." 

"  I  suppose  Steve  got  all." 

"Pretty  nearly.  Barfs  married  daughters 
had  their  portions  long  ago,  but  he  left  each  of 

1  Death-feast. 


92  THE  SQUIRE  OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

them  three  hundred  pounds  as  a  good-will  token. 
Ducie  got  a  thousand  pounds  and  her  right 
in  Up-Hill  as  long  as  she  lived.  All  else  was 
for  Steve  except  —  and  this  bothers  me  —  a  box 
of  papers  left  in  Ducie's  charge.  They  are  to 
be  given  to  me  at  her  discretion;  and,  if  not 
given  during  her  lifetime  or  my  lifetime,  the 
charge  remains  then  between  those  that  come 
after  us.  I  don't  like  it,  and  I  can't  think  what 
it  means.  Eh  ?  What  ? " 

"  He  left  you  nothing  ?  " 

"  He  left  me  his  staff.  He  knew  better  than 
to  leave  me  money.  But  I  am  bothered  about 
that  box  of  papers.  What  can  they  refer  to  ? 
Eh  ?  What  ? " 

"I  can  make  a  guess,  William.  When  your 
brother  Tom  left  home,  and  went  to  India,  he 
took  money  enough  with  him  ;  but  I'm  afraid 
he  got  it  queerly.  At  any  rate,  your  father  had 
some  big  sums  to  raise.  You  were  at  college 
at  the  time ;  and  though  there  was  some  under 
hand  talk,  maybe  you  never  heard  it,  for  no 
one  round  Sandal-Side  would  pass  on  a  word 
likely  to  trouble  the  old  squire,  or  offend  Mis 
tress  Charlotte.  Now,  perhaps  it  was  at  that 
time  Barf  Latrigg  '  did  well  to  Sandal.' " 


THUS  RUNS   THE    WORLD  AWAY.  93 

"  I  think  you  may  be  right,  Alice.  I  remem 
ber  that  father  was  a  bit  mean  with  me  the 
last  year  I  was  at  Oxford.  He  would  have 
reasons  he  did  not  tell  me  of.  One  should 
never  judge  a  father.  He  is  often  forced  to 
cut  the  loaf  unevenly  for  the  good  of  every 
one." 

But  this  new  idea  troubled  Sandal.  He  was 
a  man  of  super-sensitive  honor  with  regard  to 
money  matters.  If  there  were  really  any  obli 
gation  of  that  kind  between  the  two  houses,  he 
hardly  felt  grateful  to  Latrigg  for  being  silent 
about  it.  And  still  more  the  transfer  of  these 
papers  vexed  him.  Ducie  might  know  what 
he  might  never  know.  Steve  might  have  it  in 
his  power  to  trouble  Harry  when  he  was  at 
rest  with  his  fore-elders.  The  subject  haunted 
and  worried  him  ;  and  as  worries  are  never 
complete  worries  till  they  have  an  individuality, 
Steve  very  soon  became  the  personal  embodi 
ment  of  mortifying  uncertainty,  and  wounded 
amour  propre.  For  if  Mrs.  Sandal's  suspicion 
were  true,  or  even  if  it  were  not  true,  she 
was  not  likely  to  be  the  only  one  in  Sandal- 
Side  who  would  construe  Latrigg's  singular 
disposition  of  his  papers  in  the  same  way. 


94  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

Certainly  Squire  William  did  not  feel  as  if  the 
dead  man  had  '  done  well  to  Sandal.' 

Stephen  was  equally  annoyed.  His  grand 
father  had  belonged  to  a  dead  century,  and 
retained  until  the  last  his  almost  feudal  idea 
of  the  bond  between  his  family  and  the  San 
dals.  But  the  present  squire  had  stepped  out 
side  the  shadows  of  the  past,  and  Stephen 
was  fully  abreast  of  his  own  times.  He  under 
stood  very  well,  that,  whatever  these  papers 
related  to,  they  would  be  a  constant  thorn  in 
Sandal's  side ;  and  he  saw  them  lying  between 
Charlotte  and  himself,  a  barrier  unknown,  and 
insurmountable  because  unknown. 

From  Ducie  he  could  obtain  neither  in 
formation  nor  assistance.  "  Mother,"  he 
asked,  "  do  you  know  what  those  papers  are 
about  ? " 

"  Ratherly." 

"  When  can  you  tell  me  ?" 

"  There  must  be  a  deal  of  sorrow  before  I 
can  tell  you." 

"  Do  you  want  to  tell  me  ?  " 

"  If  I  should  dare  to  want  it  one  minute, 
I  should  ask  God's  pardon  the  next.  When  I 
unlock  that  box,  Steve,  there  is  like  to  be 


THUS  RUNS   THE    WORLD  AWAY.  95 

trouble   in    Sandal.     I  think  your  grandfather 
would  rather  the  key  rusted  away." 

"Does    the    squire    know   any   thing   about 
them?" 
'Not  he." 

"  If  he  asks,  will  you  tell  him  ?  " 

"  Not  yet.     I  —  hope  never." 

"I  wish  they  were  in  the  fire." 

"  Perhaps  some  day  you  may  put  them  there. 
You  will  have  the  right  when  I  am  gone." 

Then  Steve  silently  kissed  her,  and  went 
into  the  garden ;  and  Ducie  watched  him 
through  the  window,  and  whispered  to  herself, 
"  It  is  a  bit  hard,  but  it  might  be  harder ;  and 
right  always  gets  the  overhand  at  the  long 
end." 

The  first  interview  between  the  squire  and 
Stephen  after  Barf  Latrigg's  funeral  was  not 
a  pleasanter  one  than  this  misunderstanding 
promised.  Sandal  was  walking  on  Sandal  Scree- 
top  one  morning,  and  met  Steve.  "  Good- 
morning,  Mr.  Latrigg,"  he  said;  "you  are  a 
statesman  now,  and  we  must  give  you  your  due 
respect."  He  did  not  say  it  unkindly ;  but 
Steve  somehow  felt  the  difference  between  Mr. 
Latrigg  and  Squire  Sandal  as  he  had  neve* 


96  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

felt  it  when  the  greeting  had  only  been,  "  Good- 
morning,  Steve.  How  do  all  at  home  do  ? " 

Still,  he  was  anxious  to  keep  Sandal's  good 
will,  and  he  hastened  to  ask  his  opinion  upon 
several  matters  relating  to  the  estate  which 
had  just  come  into  his  hands.  Ordinarily  this 
concession  would  have  been  a  piece  of  subtle 
flattery  quite  irresistible  to  the  elder  man,  but 
just  at  that  time  it  was  the  most  imprudent 
thing  Steve  could  have  done. 

"  I  had  an  offer  this  morning  from  Squire 
Methley.  He  wants  to  rent  the  Skelwith 
'walk'  from  me.  What  do  you  think  of  him. 
sir?" 

"  As  how  ? " 

"As  a  tenant.  I  suppose  he  has  money. 
There  are  about  a  thousand  sheep  on  it." 

"  He  lives  on  the  other  side  of  the  range, 
and  I  know  him  not ;  but  our  sheep  have  min 
gled  on  the  mountain  for  thirty  years.  I  count 
not  after  him,  and  he  counts  not  after  me ;"  and 
Sandal  spoke  coldly,  like  a  man  defending  his 
own  order.  "Are  you  going  to  rent  your 
'  walks  '  so  soon  ?  Eh  ?  What  ?  " 

"  As  soon  as  I  can  advantageously." 

"  I  bethink  me.     At  the  last  shearing  you 


THUS  RUNS   THE    WORLD  AWAY.  97 

were  all  for  spinning  and  weaving.  The  Coppice 
Woods  were  to  make  your  bobbins ;  Silver 
Force  was  to  feed  your  engines ;  the  little 
herd  lads  and  lassies  to  mind  your  spinning- 
frames.  Well,  well,  Mr.  Latrigg,  such  doings 
are  not  for  me  to  join  in !  I  shall  be  sorry  to 
see  these  lovely  valleys  turned  into  weaving- 
shops  ;  but  you  belong  to  a  new  generation, 
and  the  young  know  every  thing,  —  or  they 
think  they  do." 

"  And  you  will  soon  join  the  new  generation, 
squire.  You  were  always  tolerant  and  wide 
awake.  I  never  knew  your  prejudices  beyond 
reasoning  with." 

"Mr.  Latrigg,  leave  my  prejudices,  as  you 
call  them,  alone.  To-day  I  am  not  in  the 
humor  either  to  defend  them  or  repent  of 
them." 

They  talked  for  some  time  longer,  —  talked 
until  the  squire  felt  bored  with  Steve's  plans. 
The  young  man  kept  hoping  every  moment  to 
say  something  that  would  retrieve  his  previous 
blunders  ;  but  who  can  please  those  who  are 
determined  not  to  be  pleased  ?  And  yet  Sandal 
was  annoyed  at  his  own  injustice,  and  then  still 
more  annoyed  at  Steve  for  causing  him  to  be 


98  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

unjust.  Besides  which,  the  young  man's  eager 
ness  for  change,  his  enthusiasms  and  ambitions, 
offended  him  in  a  particular  way  that  morning ; 
for  he  had  had  an  unpleasant  letter  from  his 
son  Harry,  who  was  not  eager  and  enthusiastic 
and  ambitious,  but  lazy,  extravagant,  and  quite 
commonplace.  Also  Charlotte  had  not  cared 
to  come  out  with  him,  and  the  immeasurable 
self-complacency  of  his  nephew  Julius  had  really 
quite  spoiled  his  breakfast ;  and  then,  below  all, 
there  was  that  disagreeable  feeling  about  the 
Latriggs. 

So  Stephen  did  not  conciliate  Sandal,  and 
he  was  himself  very  much  grieved  at  the  squire's 
evident  refusal  of  his  friendly  advances.  There 
is  no  humiliation  so  bitter  as  that  of  a  rejected 
offering.  Was  it  not  the  failure  of  Cain's 
attempted  propitiation  that  kindled  the  flame 
of  hate  and  murder  in  his  heart  ?  Steve  Lat- 
rigg  went  back  to  Up-Hill,  nursing  a  feeling  of 
indignation  against  the  man  who  had  so  sud 
denly  conceived  a  dislike  to  him,  and  who  had 
dashed,  with  regrets  and  doubtful  speeches  and 
faint  praise,  all  the  plans  which  at  sunrise  had 
seemed  so  full  of  hope,  and  so  worthy  of 
success. 


THUS  RUNS   THE    WORLD  AWAY.  99 

The  squire  was  equally  annoyed.  He  could 
not  avoid  speaking  of  the  interview,  for  it  irri 
tated  him,  and  was  uppermost  in  his  thoughts. 
He  detailed  it  with  a  faint  air  of  pitying  con 
tempt.  "The  lad  is  upset  with  the  money  and 
land  he  has  come  into,  and  the  whole  place  is 
too  small  for  his  greatness."  That  was  what  he 
said,  and  he  knew  he  was  unjust ;  but  the  moral 
atmosphere  between  Steve  and  himself  had 
become  permeated  with  distrust  and  dislike. 
Unhappy  miasmas  floated  hither  and  thither  in 
it,  and  poisoned  him.  When  with  Stephen  he 
hardly  recognized  himself :  he  did  not  belong 
to  himself.  Sarcasm,  contradiction,  opposing 
ideas,  took  possession  of  and  ruled  him  by  the 
forces  of  antipathy,  just  as  others  ruled  him  by 
the  forces  of  love  and  attraction. 

The  days  that  had  been  full  of  peaceful  hap 
piness  were  troubled  in  all  their  hours ;  and 
yet  the  sources  of  trouble  were  so  vague,  so- 
blended  with  what  he  had  called  unto  himself, 
that  he  could  not  give  vent  to  his  unrest  and 
disappointment.  His  life  had  had  a  jar ;  noth 
ing  ran  smoothly  ;  and  he  was  almost  glad  when 
Julius  announced  the  near  termination  of  his 
visit.  He  had  begun  to  feel  as  if  Julius  were 


IOO  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

inimical  to  him ;  not  consciously  so,  but  in  that 
occult  way  -which  makes  certain  foods  and 
drinks,  certain  winds  and  weathers,  inimical  to 
certain  personalities.  His  presence  seemed  to 
have  blighted  his  happiness,  as  the  north  wind 
blighted  his  myrtles.  "  If  I  could  only  have 
let  '  well '  alone.  If  I  had  never  written  that 
letter."  Many  a  time  a  day  he  said  such 
words  to  his  own  heart. 

In  the  mean  time,  Julius  was  quite  uncon 
scious  of  his  position.  He  was  thoroughly  en 
joying  himself.  If  others  were  losing,  he  was 
not.  He  was  in  love  with  the  fine  old  hall. 
The  simple,  sylvan  character  of  its  daily  life 
charmed  his  poetic  instincts.  The  sweet,  hot 
days  on  the  fells,  with  a  rod  in  his  hand,  and 
Charlotte  and  the  squire  for  company,  were  like 
an  idyl.  The  rainy  days  in  the  large,  low 
drawing-room,  singing  with  Sophia,  or  dreaming 
and  speculating  with  her  on  all  sorts  of  mys 
teries,  were,  in  their  way,  equally  charmful. 
He  liked  to  walk  slowly  up  and  down,  and  to 
talk  to  her  softly  of  things  obscure,  cryptic,  cab 
alistic.  The  plashing  rain,  the  moaning  wind, 
made  just  the  monotonous  accompaniment  that 
seemed  fitting ;  and  the  lovely  girl,  listening, 


THUS  RUNS   THE    WORLD  AWAY.         IOI 

with  needle  half-drawn,  and  sensitive,  sensuous 
face  lifted  to  his  own,  made  a  situation  in  which 
he  knew  he  did  himself  full  justice. 

At  such  times  he  thought  Sophia  was  surely 
his  natural  mate,  — '  the  soul  that  halved  his 
own,'  the  one  of  '  nearer  kindred  than  life 
hinted  of.'  At  other  times  he  was  equally  con 
scious  that  he  loved  Charlotte  Sandal  with  an 
intensity  to  which  his  love  for  Sophia  was  as 
water  is  to  wine.  But  Charlotte's  indifference 
mortified  him,  and  their  natures  were  almost 
antagonistic  to  each  other.  Under  such  cir 
cumstances  a  great  love  is  often  a  dangerous 
one.  Very  little  will  turn  it  into  hatred.  And 
Julius  had  been  made  to  feel  more  than  once 
the  utter  superfluity  of  his  existence,  as  far  as 
Charlotte  Sandal  was  concerned. 

Still,  he  determined  not  to  resign  the  hope 
of  winning  her  until  he  was  sure  that  her 
indifference  was  not  an  affectation.  He  had 
read  of  women  who  used  it  as  a  lure.  If  it 
were  Charlotte's  special  weapon  he  was  quite 
willing  to  be  brought  to  submission  by  it. 
After  all,  there  was  piquancy  in  the  situation  ; 
for  to  most  men,  love  sought  and  hardly  won  is 
far  sweeter  than  love  freely  given. 


102  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

Yet  of  all  the  women  whom  he  had  known, 
Charlotte  Sandal  was  the  least  approachable. 
She  was  fertile  in  preventing  an  opportunity ; 
and  if  the  opportunity  came,  she  was  equally 
fertile  in  spoiling  it.  But  Julius  had  patience  ; 
and  patience  is  the  art  and  secret  of  hoping. 
A  woman  cannot  always  be  on  guard,  and  he 
believed  in  not  losing  heart,  and  in  waiting. 
Sooner  or  later,  the  happy  moment  when  suc 
cess  would  be  possible  was  certain  to  arrive. 

One  day  in  the  early  part  of  September,  the 
squire  asked  his  wife  for  all  the  house-servants 
she  could  spare.  "  A  few  more  hands  will 
bring  home  the  harvest  to-night,"  he  said  ;  "  and 
it  would  be  a  great  thing  to  get  it  in  without  a 
drop  of  rain." 

So  the  men  and  maids  went  off  to  the  wheat- 
fields,  as  if  they  were  going  to  a  frolic  ;  and 
there  was  a  happy  sense  of  freedom,  with  the 
picnicky  dinner,  and  the  general  air  of  things 
being  left  to  themselves  about  the  house. 
After  an  unusually  merry  lunch,  Julius  pro 
posed  a  walk  to  the  harvest-field,  and  Sophia 
and  Charlotte  eagerly  agreed  to  it. 

It  was  a  joy  to  be  out  of  doors  under  such  a 
sky.  The  intense,  repressing  greens  of  summer 


THUS  RUNS   THE    WORLD  AWAY.         1 03 

were  now  subdued  and  shaded.  The  air  was 
subtle  and  fragrant.  Amber  rays  shone  through 
the  boughs.  The  hills  were  clothed  in  purple. 
An  exquisite,  impalpable  haze  idealized  all 
nature.  Right  and  left  the  reapers  swept  their 
sharp  sickles  through  the  ripe  wheat.  The 
women  went  after  them,  binding  the  sheaves, 
and  singing  among  the  yellow  swaths  shrill, 
wild  songs,  full  of  simple  modulations. 

The  squire's  field  was  busy  as  a  fair  ;  and  the 
idle  young  people  sat  under  the  oaks,  or  walked 
slowly  in  the  shadow  of  the  hedges,  pulling 
poppies  and  wild  flowers,  and  realizing  all  the 
poetry  of  a  pastoral  life,  without  any  of  its  hard 
labor  or  its  vulgar  cares.  Mrs.  Sandal  had 
given  them  a  basket  with  berries  and  cake  and 
cream  in  it.  They  were  all  young  enough  to 
get  pleasantly  hungry  in  the  open  air,  all 
young  enough  to  look  upon  berries  and  cake 
and  cream  as  a  distinct  addition  to  happiness. 
They  set  out  a  little  feast  under  the  trees,  and 
called  the  squire  to  come  and  taste  their  dain 
ties. 

He  was  standing,  without  his  coat  and  vest, 
on  the  top  of  a  loaded  wain,  the  very  em 
bodiment  of  a  ipvial,  handsome,  country  gen- 


IO4  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

tleman.  The  reins  were  in  his  hand ;  he  was 
going  to  drive  home  the  wealthy  wagon  ;  but 
he  stopped  and  stooped,  and  Charlotte,  stand 
ing  on  tip-toes,  handed  him  a  glass  of  cream. 
"God  love  thy  bonny  face,"  he  said,  with  a 
beaming  smile,  as  he  handed  her  back  the 
empty  glass.  Then  off  went  the  great  horses 
with  their  towering  load,  treading  carefully  be 
tween  the  hedges  of  the  narrow  lane,  and  leav 
ing  upon  the  hawthorns  many  a  stray  ear  for 
the  birds  gleaning. 

When  the  squire  returned  he  called  to  Julius 
and  his  daughters,  "  What  idle-backs  you  are ! 
Come,  and  bind  a  sheaf  with  me."  And  they 
rose  with  a  merry  laugh,  and  followed  him  down 
the  field,  working  a  little,  and  resting  a  little ; 
and  towards  the  close  of  the  afternoon,  listen 
ing  to  the  singing  of  an  old  man  who  had 
brought  his  fiddle  to  the  field  in  order  to  be 
ready  to  play  at  the  squire's  "harvest-home." 
He  was  a  thin,  crooked,  old  man,  very  spare  and 
ruddy.  "Eighty-three  years  old,  young  sir,"  he 
said  to  Julius ;  and  then  in  a  trembling,  cracked 
voice,  he  quavered  out,  — 

** '  Says  t'  auld  man  to  t'  auld  oak-tree, 

Young  and  lusty  was  I  when  I  kenned  thee : 


THUS  RUNS   THE    WORLD  AWAY.         1 05 

I  was  young  and  lusty,  I  was  fair  and  clear, 
Young  and  lusty  was  I,  many  a  long  year. 
But  sair  failed  is  I,  sair  failed  now ; 
Sair  failed  is  I,  since  I  kenned  thou. 

Sair  failed,  honey, 

Sair  failed  now ; 

Sair  failed,  honey,     « 

Since  I  kenned  thou.'  " 

It  was  the  appeal  of  tottering  age  to  happy, 
handsome  youth,  and  Julius  could  not  resist  it. 
With  a  royal  grace  he  laid  a  guinea  in  the  old 
man's  open  palm,  and  felt  fully  rewarded  by 
his  look  of  wonder  and  delight. 

"  God  give  you  love  and  luck,  young  sir.  I 
am  eighty-three  now,  and  sair  failed ;  but  I  was 
once  twenty-three,  and  young  and  lusty  as  you 
be.  But  life  is  at  the  fag  end  with  me  now. 
God  save  us  all ! "  Then,  with  a  meaning  look 
at  the  two  pretty  girls  watching  him,  he  went 
slowly  off,  droning  out  to  a  monotonous  accom 
paniment,  an  old  love  ballad  :  — 

" '  Picking  of  lilies  the  other  day, 
Picking  of  lilies  both  fresh  and  gay, 
Picking  of  lilies,  red,  white,  and  blue, 
Little  I  thought  what  love  could  do.' " 

"'Little  I  thought  what  love  could  do]  "  Julius 


106          THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

repeated ;  and  he  sang  the  doleful  refrain  over 
and  over,  as  they  strolled  back  to  the  oak  under 
which  they  had  had  their  little  feast.  Then 
Sophia,  who  had  a  natural  love  of  neatness  and 
order,  began  to  collect  the  plates  and  napkins, 
and  arrange  them  in  the  basket ;  and  this  being 
done,  she  looked  around  for  the  housemaid  in 
order  to  put  it  in  her  charge.  The  girl  was  at 
the  other  end  of  the  field,  and  she  went  to  her. 

Charlotte  had  scarcely  perceived  what  was 
going  on.  The  old  man's  singing  had  made 
her  a  little  sad.  She,  too,  was  thinking  of 
41  what  love  could  do."  She  was  standing  under 
the  tree,  leaning  against  the  great  mossy  trunk. 
Her  brown  hair  had  fallen  loose,  her  cheeks 
were  flushed,  her  lips  crimson,  her  whole  form 
a  glowing  picture  of  youth  in  its  perfect  beauty 
and  freshness.  Sophia  was  out  of  hearing. 
Julius  stepped  close  to  her.  His  soul  was  in 
his  face ;  he  spoke  like  a  man  who  was  no  lon 
ger  master  of  himself. 

"  Charlotte,  I  love  you.  I  love  you  with  all 
rny  heart." 

She  looked  at  him  steadily.  Her  eyes  flashed. 
She  threw  downward  her  hands  with  a  depre 
cating  motion. 


THUS  RUNS   THE    WORLD  AWAY.         ID/ 

"  You  have  no  right  to  say  such  words  to  me, 
Julius.  I  have  done  all  a  woman  could  do  to 
prevent  them.  I  have  never  given  you  any 
encouragement.  A  gentleman  does  not  speak 
without  it." 

"I  could  not  help  speaking.  I  love  you, 
Charlotte.  Is  there  any  wrong  in  loving  you  ? 
If  I  had  any  hope  of  winning  you." 

"  No,  no ;  there  is  no  hope.  I  do  not  love 
you.  I  never  shall  love  you." 

"  Unless  you  have  some  other  lover,  Char 
lotte,  I  shall  dare  to  hope  "  — 

"  I  have  a  lover." 

"Oh!" 

"  And  I  am  frank  with  you  because  it  is  best. 
I  trust  you  will  respect  my  candor." 

He  only  bowed.  Indeed,  he  found  speech 
impossible.  Never  before  had -Charlotte  looked 
so  lovely  and  so  desirable  to  him.  He  felt  her 
positive  rejection  very  keenly. 

"Sophia  is  coming.  Please  to  forget  that 
this  conversation  has  ever  been." 

"  You  are  very  cruel." 

"  No.  I  am  truly  kind.  Sophia,  I  am  tired  ; 
let  us  go  home." 

So  they  turned  out  of  the  field,  and  into  the 


108  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

lane.  But  something  was  gone,  and  something 
had  come.  Sophia  felt  the  change,  and  she 
looked  curiously  at  Julius  and  Charlotte.  Char 
lotte  was  calmly  mingling  the  poppies  and 
wheat  in  her  hands.  Her  face  revealed  nothing. 
Julius  was  a  little  melancholy.  "  The  fairies 
have  left  us,"  he  said.  "  All  of  a  sudden,  the 
revel  is  over."  Then  as  they  walked  slowly 
homeward,  he  took  Sophia's  hand,  and  swayed  it 
gently  to  and  fro  to  the  old  fiddler's  refrain,  — 

" '  Little  I  thought  what  love  could  do.' " 


CHAPTER  V. 

CHARLOTTE. 

"  Oh,  how  this  spring  of  love  resembleth 
The  uncertain  glory  of  an  April  day ! " 

"  Hammering  and  clinking,  chattering  stony  names 
Of  shale  and  hornblende,  rag  and  trap  and  tuff, 
Amygdaloid  and  trachyte." 

TI7HEN  Charlotte  again  went  to  Up-Hill 
*  *  she  found  herself  walking  through  a 
sober  realm  of  leafless  trees.  The  glory  of 
autumn  was  gone.  The  hills,  with  their  circular 
sheep-pens,  were  now  brown  and  bare ;  and  the 
plaided  shepherds,  descending  far  apart,  gave 
only  an  air  of  loneliness  to  the  landscape.  She 
could  see  the  white  line  of  the  stony  road  with 
a  sad  distinctness.  It  was  no  longer  bordered 
with  creeping  vines  and  patches  of  murmuring 
bee-bent  heather.  And  the  stream-bed  also  had 
lost  nearly  all  its  sentinel  rushes,  and  the  tall 
brakens  from  its  shaggy  slopes  were  gone. 
But  Silver  Beck  still  ran  musically  over  tracts 
of  tinkling  stones ;  and,  through  the  chilly  air, 


I IO  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

the  lustered  black  cock  was  crowing  for  the 
gray  hen  in  the  hollow. 

Very  soon  the  atmosphere  became  full  of 
misty  rain ;  and  ere  she  reached  the  house, 
there  was  a  cold  wind,  and  the  nearest  cloud 
was  sprinkling  the  bubbling  beck.  It  was 
pleasant  to  see  Ducie  at  the  open  door  ready 
to  welcome  her ;  pleasant  to  get  into  the  snug 
houseplace,  and  watch  the  great  fire  leaping 
up  the  chimney,  and  throwing  lustres  on  the 
carved  oak  presses  and  long  settles,  and  on 
the  bright  brass  and  pewter  vessels,  and  the 
rows  of  showy  chinaware.  Very  pleasant  to 
draw  her  chair  to  the  little  round  table  on  the 
hearthstone,  and  to  inhale  the  fragrance  of  the 
infusing  tea,  and  the  rich  aroma  of  potted  char 
and  spiced  bread  and  freshly-baked  cheese 
cakes.  And  still  more  pleasant  to  be  taken 
possession  of,  to  have  her  damp  shoes  and 
cloak  removed,  her  chill  fingers  warmed  in  a 
kindly,  motherly  clasp,  and  to  be  made  to  feel 
through  all  her  senses  that  she  was  indeed 
"welcome  as  sun-shining." 

With  a  little  shiver  of  disappointment  she 
noticed  that  there  were  only  two  tea-cups  on 
the  table;  and  the  house,  when  she  came  to 


CHARLOTTE.  Ill 

analyze  its  atmosphere,  had  in  it  the  percepti 
ble  loneliness  of  the  absent  master.  "  Is  not 
Stephen  at  home  ? "  she  asked,  as  Ducie  set 
tled  herself  comfortably  for  their  meal ;  "  I 
thought  Stephen  was  at  home." 

"No,  he  isn't.  He  went  to  Kendal  three 
days  ago  about  his  fleeces.  Whitney's  carpet- 
works  have  made  him  a  very  good  offer.  Did 
not  the  squire  speak  of  it  ? " 

"No." 

"  Well  he  knew  all  about  it.  He  met  Steve, 
and  Steve  told  him.  The  squire  has  been  a 
little  queer  with  us  lately,  Charlotte.  Do  you 
know  what  the  trouble  is  ?  I  thought  I  would 
have  you  up  to  tea,  and  ask  you ;  so  when  San 
dal  was  up  here  this  morning,  I  said,  '  Let 
Charlotte  come,  and  have  a  cup  of  tea  with  me, 
squire,  I'd  be  glad."  And  he  said,  'When?' 
And  I  said,  '  This  afternoon.  I  am  fair  lonely 
without  Steve.'  And  he  said,  '  I'm  agreeable. 
She'll  be  glad  enough  to  come.'  And  I  said, 
'Thank'ee,  squire,  I'll  be  glad  enough  to  see 
her.'  But  what  is  the  matter,  Charlotte  ?  The 
squire  has  been  in  his  airs  with  Steve  ever  so 
long." 

Then  Charlotte's  face  grew  like  a  flame ;  and 


112  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

she  answered,  in  a  tone  of  tender  sadness, 
"  Father  thinks  Steve  loves  me ;  and  he  says 
there  is  no  love-line  between  our  houses,  and 
that,  if  there  were,  it  is  crossed  with  sorrow, 
and  that  neither  the  living  nor  the  dead  will 
have  marriage  between  Steve  and  me." 

"  I  thought  that  was  the  trouble.  I  did  so. 
As  for  the  living,  he  speaks  for  himself  ;  as  for 
the  dead,  it  is  your  grandmother  Sandal  he 
thinks  of.  She  was  a  hard,  proud  woman, 
Charlotte.  Her  two  daughters  rejoiced  at 
their  wedding-days,  and  two  out  of  her  three 
sons  she  drove  away  from  their  home.  Your 
father  was  on  the  point  of  going,  when  his 
brother  Launcie's  death  made  him  the  heir. 
Then  she  gave  him  a  bit  more  respect,  and 
for  pretty  Alice  Morecombe's  sake  he  stayed 
by  the  old  squire.  Ten  years  your  mother 
waited  for  William  Sandal,  Charlotte." 

"Yes,  I  know." 

"  Do  you  love  Steve,  Charlotte  ?  I  am 
Steve's  mother,  dear,  and  you  may  speak  to  me 
as  if  you  were  talking  to  your  own  heart.  I 
would  never  tell  Steve  either  this  way  or  that 
way  for  any  thing.  Steve  would  not  thank  me 
if  I  did.  He  is  one  of  them  that  wants  to 


CHARLOTTE.  113 

reach  his  happiness  in  his  own  way,  and  by  his 
own  hand.  And  I  have  good  reasons  for  asking 
you  such  a  question,  or  I  would  not  ask  it  ; 
you  may  be  sure  I  have,  that  you  may." 

Charlotte  had  put  down  her  cup,  and  she  sat 
with  her  hands  clasped  upon  her  lap,  looking 
down  into  it.  Ducie's  question  took  her  by 
surprise,  and  she  was  rather  offended  by  it. 
For  Charlotte  Sandal  had  been  taught  all  the 
reticences  of  good  society,  and  for  a  moment 
she  resented  a  catechism  so  direct  and  personal ; 
but  only  for  a  moment.  Before  Ducie  had 
done  speaking,  she  had  remembered  that  noth 
ing  but  true  kindness  could  have  prompted  the 
inquiry.  Ducie  was  not  a  curious,  tattling,  med 
dlesome  woman  ;  Charlotte  had  never  known 
her  to  interfere  in  any  one's  affairs.  She  had 
few  visitors,  and  she  made  no  calls.  Year  in 
and  year  out,  Ducie  could  always  be  found  at 
home  with  herself. 

"  You  need  not  tell  me,  dear,  if  you  do  not 
know ;  or  if  you  do  not  want  to  tell  me." 

"  I  do  know,  Ducie  ;  and  I  do  not  mind  tell 
ing  you  in  the  least.  I  love  Stephen  very 
dearly.  I  have  loved  him  ever  since  —  I  don't 
know  when." 


1 14          THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

"  And  you  have  always  had  as  good  and  as 
true  as  you  have  given.  Steve  is  fondly  heart- 
grown  to  you,  Charlotte.  But  we  will  say  no 
more  ;  and  what  we  have  said  is  dropped  into  my 
heart  like  a  stone  dropped  into  deep  water." 

Then  they  spoke  of  the  rector,  how  he  was 
failing  a  little  ;  and  of  one  of  the  maids  at  Seat- 
Sandal  who  was  to  marry  the  head  shepherd  at 
Up-Hill ;  and  at  last,  when  there  had  been 
enough  of  indifferent  talk  to  effectually  put 
Steve  out  of  mind,  Ducie  asked  suddenly, 
"  How  is  Harry,  and  is  he  doing  well  ?  " 

This  was  a  subject  Charlotte  was  glad  to 
discuss  with  Ducie.  Harry  was  a  great  favor 
ite  with  her,  and  had  been  accustomed  to  run 
to  Up-Hill  whenever  he  was  in  any  boyish 
scrape.  And  Harry  was  not  doing  well. 
"  Father  is  vexed  and  troubled  about  him, 
Ducie,"  she  answered.  "  Whenever  a  letter 
comes  from  Harry,  it  puts  every  thing  wrong 
in  the  house.  Mother  goes  away  and  cries ; 
and  Sophia  sulks  because,  she  says,  '  it  is  a 
shame  any  single  one  of  the  family  should  be 
allowed  to  make  all  the  rest  uncomfortable.'  " 

"  Harry  should  never  have  gone  into  the 
army.  He  hasn't  any  resisting  power,  hasn't 


CHARLOTTE.  115 

Harry.  And  there  is  nothing  but  temptation 
in  the  army.  Dear  me,  Charlotte  !  We  may 
well  pray  not  to  be  led  into  the  way  of  tempta 
tion  ;  for  if  we  once  get  into  it,  we  are  no 
better  off  than  a  fly  in  a  spider's  web." 

She  was  filling  the  two  empty  cups  as  she 
spoke,  but  she  suddenly  set  down  the  teapot, 
and  listened  a  moment.  "  I  hear  Steve's  foot 
steps.  Sit  still,  Charlotte.  He  is  opening 
the  door.  I  knew  it  was  he." 

"  Mother  !  mother  !  " 

"  Here  I  am,  Steve." 

He  came  in  rosy  and  wet  with  his  climb  up 
the  fellside ;  and,  as  he  kissed  his  mother,  he 
put  out  his  hand  to  Charlotte.  Then  there  was 
the  pleasantest  stir  of  care  and  welcome  im 
aginable  ;  and  Steve  soon  found  himself  sitting 
opposite  the  girl  he  loved  so  dearly,  taking  his 
cup  from  her  hands,  looking  into  her  bright, 
kind  eyes,  exchanging  with  her  those  charm 
ing  little  courtesies  which  can  be  made  the 
vehicles  of  so  much  that  is  not  spoken,  and 
that  is  understood  without  speech. 

But  the  afternoons  were  now  very  short,  and 
the  happy  meal  had  to  be  hastened.  The 
clouds,  too,  had  fallen  low ;  and  the  rain,  as 


Il6  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

Ducie  said,  "was  plashing  and  pattering 
badly."  She  folded  her  own  blanket-shawl 
around  Charlotte ;  and  as  there  was  no  wind, 
and  the  road  was  mostly  wide  enough  for  two, 
Steve  could  carry  an  umbrella,  and  get  her 
safely  home  before  the  darkening. 

How  merrily  they  went  out  together  into  the 
storm  !  Steve  thought  he  could  hardly  have 
chosen  any  circumstances  that  would  have 
pleased  him  better.  It  was  quite  necessary 
that  Charlotte  should  keep  close  to  his  side ;  it 
was  quite  natural  that  she  should  lift  her  face 
to  his  in  talking ;  it  was  equally  natural  that 
Steve  should  bend  towards  Charlotte,  and  that, 
in  a  moment,  without  any  conscious  intention 
of  doing  so,  he  should  kiss  her. 

She  trembled  and  stood  still,  but  she  was  not 
angry.  "  That  was  very  wrong,  Steve.  I  told 
you  at  the  harvest-home  what  father  said,  and 
what  I  had  promised  father.  I'll  break  no 
squares  with  father,  and  you  must  not  make 
me  do  so." 

"I  could  not  help  it,  Charlotte,  you  looked 
so  bewitching." 

"  Oh,  dear !  the  old,  old  excuse,  '  The  woman 
tempted  me,'  etc." 


CHARLOTTE. 

"Forgive  me,  dear  Charlotte.  I  was  going 
to  tell  you  that  I  had  been  very  fortunate  in 
Kendal,  and  next  week  I  am  going  to  Brad 
ford  to  learn  all  about  spinning  and  weaving 
and  machinery.  But  what  is  success  without 
you?  If  I  make  every  dream  come  to  pass, 
and  have  not  Charlotte,  my  heart  will  keep 
telling  me,  night  and  day,  '  All  for  nothing,  all 
for  nothing? ' 

"  Do  not  be  so  impatient.  You  are  making 
trouble,  and  forespeaking  disappointment.  Be 
fore  you  have  learned  all  about  manufacturing, 
and  built  your  mill,  before  you  are  really  ready 
to  begin  your  life's  work,  many  a  change  may 
have  taken  place  in  Sandal-Side.  When  Julius 
comes  at  Christmas  I  think  he  will  ask  Sophia 
to  marry  him,  and  I  think  Sophia  will  accept 
his  offer.  That  marriage  would  open  the  way 
for  our  marriage." 

"  Only  partly  I  fear.  I  can  see  that  squire 
Sandal  has  taken  a  dislike,  and  your  mother 
was  a  little  high  with  me  when  I  saw  her  last." 

"Partly  your  own  fault,  sir.  Why  did  you 
give  up  the  ways  of  your  fathers  ?  The  idea 
of  mills  and  trading  in  these  dales  is  such  a 
new  one." 


Il8  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

"But  a  man  must  move  with  his  own 
Charlotte.  There  is  no  prospect  of  another 
Stuart  rebellion.  I  cannot  do  the  queen's  ser 
vice,  and  get  rewarded  as  old  Christopher 
Sandal  did.  And  I  want  to  go  to  Parliament,, 
and  can't  go  without  money.  And  I  can't 
make  money  quick  enough  by  keeping  sheep 
and  planting  wheat.  But  manufacturing  means 
money,  land,  influence,  power." 

"  Father  does  not  see  these  things  as  you  do, 
Steve.  He  sees  the  peaceful  dales  invaded 
by  white-faced  factory-hands,  loud-voiced,  quar 
relling,  disrespectful.  All  the  old  landmarks 
and  traditions  will  disappear ;  also  simple  ways 
of  living,  calm  religion,  true  friendships.  Every 
good  old  sentiment  will  be  gauged  by  money, 
will  finally  vanish  before  money,  and  what  the 
busy  world  calls  'improvements.'  It  makes 
him  fretful,  jealous,  and  unhappy." 

"That  is  just  the  trouble,  Charlotte.  When 
a  man  has  not  the  spirit  of  his  age,  he  has  all 
its  unhappiness.  But  my  greatest  fear  is,  that 
you  will  grow  weary  of  waiting  for  our  hour." 

"I  have  told  you  that  I  shall  not.  There 
is  an  old  proverb  which  says,  'Trust  not  the 
man  who  promises  with  an  oath.'  Is  not  my 


CHARLOTTE. 

•simple  word,  then,  the  best  and  the  surest 
hope  ? " 

Then  she  nestled  close  to  his  side,  and  began 
to  talk  of  his  plans  and  his  journey,  and  to 
anticipate  the  time  when  he  would  break 
ground  upon  Silver  Beck,  and  build  the  many- 
•windowed  factory  that  had  been  his  dream 
•ever  since  he  had  began  to  plan  his  own  career. 
The  wind  rose,  the  rain  fell  in  a  down-pour 
^before  they  reached  the  park-gates ;  but  there 
•was  a  certain  joy  in  facing  the  wet  breeze,  and 
.although  they  did  not  loiter,  yet  neither  did 
they  hurry.  In  both  their  hearts  there  was 
a  little  fear  of  the  squire,  but  neither  spoke  of 
it.  Charlotte  would  not  suppose  or  suggest 
.any  necessity  for  avoiding  him,  and  Steve  was 
•equally  sensitive  on  the  subject. 

When  they  arrived  at  Seat-Sandal  the  main 
'entrance  was  closed,  and  Stephen  stood  with 
her  on  the  threshold  until  a  man-servant 
•opened  slowly  its  ponderous  panels.  There 
was  a  bright  fire  burning  in  the  hall,  and  lights 
were  in  the  sconces  on  the  walls.  Charlotte 
asked  Steve  to  come  in  and  rest  a  while.  She 
tried  to  avoid  showing  either  fear  or  hurry,  and 
Steve  was  conscious  of  the  same  effort  on  his 


I2O  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE, 

own  part ;  but  yet  he  knew  that  they  both 
thought  it  well  none  of  the  family  were  aware 
of  her  return,  or  of  his  presence.  She  watched 
him  descend  the  dripping  steps  into  the  dark 
ness,  and  then  went  towards  the  fire.  An 
unusual  silence  was  in  the  house.  She  stood 
upon  the  hearthstone  while  the  servant  rebolted 
the  door,  and  then  asked,  — 

"  Is  dinner  served,  Noel  ? " 

"  It  be  over,  Miss  Charlotte." 

So  she  went  to  her  own  room.  It  was  chilly 
and  dreary.  The  fire  had  been  allowed  to  die 
down,  and  had  only  just  been  replenished.  It 
was  smoking  also,  and  the  candles  on  her  toilet- 
table  burned  dimly  in  the  damp  atmosphere. 
She  hurriedly  changed  her  gown,  and  was 
going  down-stairs,  when  a  movement  in  Sophia's 
room  arrested  her  attention.  It  was  very 
unusual  for  Sophia  to  be  up-stairs  at  that 
hour,  and  the  fact  struck  her  significantly. 
She  knocked  at  the  door,  and  was  told  rather 
irritably  to  "  Come  in." 

"Dear  me,  Sophia!  what  is  the  matter?  It 
feels  as  if  there  were  something  wrong  in  the 
house." 

"  I     suppose     there     is     something    wrong. 


CHARLOTTE.  121 

Father  got  a  letter  from  Harry  by  the  late 
post,  and  he  left  his  dinner  untouched ;  and 
mother  is  in  her  room  crying,  of  course.  I  do- 
think  it  is  a  shame  that  Harry  is  allowed  to 
turn  the  house  upside  down  whenever  he  feels 
like  it." 

"Perhaps  he  is  in  trouble." 

"  He  is  always  in  trouble,  for  he  is  always 
busy  making  trouble.  His  very  amusements 
mean  trouble  for  all  who  have  the  misfortune 
to  have  any  thing  to  do  with  him.  Julius  told 
me  that  no  man  in  the  '  Cameronians '  had  a 
worse  name  than  Harry  Sandal." 

"Julius!  The  idea  of  Julius  talking  badly 
about  our  Harry,  and  to  you  !  I  wonder  you 
listened  to  him..  It  was  a  shabby  thing  to  do; 
it  was  that." 

"  Julius  only  repeated  what  he  had  heard, 
and  he  was  very  sorry  to  do  so.  He  felt  it  to 
be  conscientiously  his  duty." 

"  Bah !  God  save  me  from  such  a  con- 
science  !  If  Julius  had  heard  any  thing  good  of 
Harry,  he  would  have  had  no  conscientious 
scruples  about  silence ;  not  he !  I  dare  say 
Julius  would  be  glad  if  poor  Harry  was  out  of 
his  way." 


122  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

"Charlotte  Sandal,  you  shall  not  say  such 
very  unladylike,  such  unchristianlike,  things 
in  my  room.  It  is  quite  easy  to  see  whose 
company  you  have  been  in." 

"  I  have  been  with  Ducie.  Can  you  find  me 
a  sweeter  or  better  soul  ?  " 

"Or  a  handsomer  young  man  than  her  son?" 

"I  mean  that  also,  certainly.  Handsome, 
energetic,  enterprising,  kind,  religious." 

"Spare  me  the  balance  of  your  adjectives. 
We  all  know  that  Steve  is  square  on  every  side, 
and  straight  in  every  corner.  Don't  be  so 
earnest ;  you  fatigue  me  to-night.  I  am  on  the 
verge  of  a  nervous  headache,  and  I  really  think 
you  had  better  leave  me."  She  turned  her 
chair  towards  the  fire  as  she  spoke,  and  hardly 
palliated  this  act  of  dismissal  by  the  faint  "ex 
cuse  me,"  which  accompanied  it.  And  Char 
lotte  made  no  remark,  though  she  left  her 
sister's  room,  mentally  promising  herself  to 
keep  away  from  it  in  the  future. 

She  went  next  to  the  parlor.  The  squire's 
chair  was  empty,  and  on  the  little  stand  at  its 
side,  the  "Gentleman's  Magazine"  lay  uncut. 
His  slippers,  usually  assumed  after  dinner, 
were  still  warming  on  the  white  sheepskin  rug 


CHARLOTTE.  123 

before  the  fire.  But  the  large,  handsome  face, 
that  always  made  a  sunshiny  feeling  round  the 
hearth,  was  absent ;  and  the  room  had  a  loneli 
ness  that  made  her  heart  fear.  She  waited  a 
few  minutes,  looking  with  expectation  towards 
a  piece  of  knitting  which  was  Mrs.  Sandal's 
evening  work.  But  the  ivory  needles  and  the 
colored  wools  remained  uncalled  for,  and  she 
grew  rapidly  impatient,  and  went  to  her 
mother's  room.  Mrs.  Sandal  was  lying  upon 
her  couch,  exhausted  with  weeping ;  and  the 
squire  sat  holding  his  head  in  his  hands,  the 
very  picture  of  despondency  and  sorrow. 

"  Can  I  come  and  speak  to  you,  mother  ? " 

The  squire  answered,  "  To  be  sure  you  can, 
Charlotte.  We  are  glad  to  see  you.  We  are 
in  trouble,  my  dear.  ** 

"  Is  it  Harry,  father  ? " 

"Trouble  mostly  comes  that  way.  Yes,  it 
is  Harry.  He  is  in  a  great  strait,  and  wants 
five  hundred  pounds,  Charlotte  ;  five  hundred 
pounds,  dear,  and  he  wants  it  at  once.  Only 
six  weeks  ago  he  wrote  in  the  same  way  for 
a  hundred  and  fifty  pounds.  He  is  robbing 
me,  robbing  his  mother,  robbing  Sophia  and 
you." 


124  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

"  William,  I  wouldn't  give  way  to  temper 
that  road ;  calling  your  own  son  and  my  son 
a  thief.  It's  not  fair,"  said  Mrs.  Sandal,  with 
considerable  asperity. 

"  I  must  call  things  by  their  right  names, 
Alice.  I  call  a  cat,  a  cat ;  and  I  call  our  Harry 
a  thief;  for  I  don't  know  that  forcing  money 
from  a  father  is  any  better  than  forcing  it  from 
a  stranger.  It  is  only  using  a  father's  love  as 
a  pick-lock  instead  of  an  iron  tool.  That's  all 
the  difference,  Alice  ;  and  I  don't  think  the 
difference  is  one  that  helps  Harry's  case  much. 
Eh?  What?" 

"Dear  me!  it  is  always  money,"  sighed 
Charlotte. 

"Your  father  knows  very  well  that  Harry 
must  have  the  money,  Charlotte.  I  think  it 
is  cruel  of  him  to  make  every  one  ill  before  he 
gives  what  is  sure  to  be  given  in  the  end. 
Sophia  has  a  headache,  I  dare  say,  and  I  am 
sure  I  have." 

"But  I  cannot  give  him  this  money,  Alice. 
I  have  not  realized  on  my  wool  and  wheat  yet. 
I  cannot  coin  money.  I  will  not  beg  or  bor 
row  it.  I  will  not  mortgage  an  acre  '  ;r  it." 

"  And  you  will  let  your  only  son.      e  heir  of 


CHARLOTTE.  12$ 

Sandal-Side,  go  to  jail  and  disgrace  for  five 
hundred  pounds.  I  never  heard  tell  of  such 
cruelty.  Never,  never,  never  !  " 

"You  do  not  know  what  you  are  saying, 
Alice.  Tell  me  how  I  am  to  find  five  hundred 
pounds.  Eh  ?  What  ?  " 

"There  must  be  ways.  How  can  a  woman 
tell  ? " 

"  Father,  have  I  not  got  some  money  of  my 
own  ? " 

"  You  have  the  accrued  interest  on  the 
thousand  pounds  your  grandmother  left  you. 
Sophia  has  the  same." 

"  Is  the  interest  sufficient  ?  " 

"  You  have  drawn  from  it  at  intervals.  I 
think  there  is  about  three  hundred  pounds  to 
your  credit." 

"  Sophia  will  have  nearly  as  much.  Call  her, 
father.  Surely  between  us  we  can  arrange  five 
hundred  pounds.  I  shall  be  real  glad  to  help 
Harry.  Young  men  have  so  many  temptations 
now,  father.  Harry  is  a  good  sort  in  the  main. 
Just  have  a  little  patience  with  him.  Eh, 
father  ?  " 

And  the  squire  was  glad  of  the  pleading 
voice.  Glad  for  some  one  to  make  the  excuses 


126  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

he  did  not  think  it  right  to  make.  Glad  to 
have  the  little  breath  of  hope  that  Charlotte's 
faith  in  her  brother  gave  him.  He  stood  up, 
and  took  her  face  between  his  hands  and  kissed 
it.  Then  he  sent  a  servant  for  Sophia;  and 
after  a  short  delay  the  young  lady  appeared, 
looking  pale  and  exceedingly  injured. 

"  Did  you  send  for  me,  father  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  did.  Come  in  and  sit  down.  There 
is  something  to  be  done  for  Harry,  and  we 
want  your  help,  Sophia.  Eh  ?  What  ?  " 

She  pushed  a  chair  gently  to  the  table,  and 
sat  down  languidly.  She  was  really  sick,  but 
her  air  and  attitude  was  that  of  a  person  suffer 
ing  an  extremity  of  physical  anguish.  The 
squire  looked  at  her  and  then  at  Charlotte  with 
dismay  and  self-reproach. 

"Harry  wants  five  hundred  pounds,  Sophia." 

"  I  am  astonished  he  does  not  want  five 
thousand  pounds.  Father,  I  would  not  send 
him  a  sovereign  of  it.  Julius  told  me  about 
his  carryings-on." 

She  could  hardly  have  said  any  words  so 
favorable  to  Harry's  cause.  The  squire  was 
on  the  defensive  for  his  own  side  in  a  mo 
ment. 


CHARLOTTE.  \2f 

"  What  has  Julius  to  do  with  it  ? "  he  cried. 
"  Sandal-Side  is  not  his  property,  and  please 
God  it  never  will  be.  Harry  is  one  kind  of  a 
sinner,  Julius  is  another  kind  of  a  sinner.  God 
Almighty  only  knows  which  kind  of  sinner  is 
the  meaner  and  worse.  The  long  and  the  short 
of  it,  is  this :  Harry  must  have  five  hundred 
pounds.  Charlotte  is  willing  to  give  the  balance 
of  her  interest  account,  about  three  hundred 
pounds,  towards  it.  Will  you  make  up  what  is 
lacking,  out  of  your  interest  money  ?  Eh  ? 
What  ? " 

"  I  do  not  know  why  I  should  be  asked  to  do 
this,  I  am  sure." 

"Only  because  I  have  no  ready  money  at 
present.  And  because,  however  bad  Harry  is, 
he  is  your  brother.  And  because  he  is  heir  of 
Sandal,  and  the  honor  of  the  name  is  worth  sav 
ing.  And  because  your  mother  will  break  her 
heart  if  shame  comes  to  Harry.  And  there  are 
some  other  reasons  too  ;  but  if  mother, 
brother,  and  honor  don't  seem  worth  while  to 
you,  why,  then,  Sophia,  there  is  no  use  wasting 
words.  Eh  ?  What  ?  " 

"  Let  father  have  what  is  needed,  Sophia.  I 
will  pay  you  back." 


128  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

"  Very  well,  Charlotte ;  but  I  think  it  is 
most  unjust,  most  iniquitous,  as  Julius  says  "  — 

"  Now,  then,  don't  quote  Julius  to  me.  What 
right  had  he  to  be  discussing  my  family  mat 
ters,  or  Sandal  matters  either,  I  wonder? 
Eh  ?  What  ?  " 

"He  is  in  the  family." 

"Is  he  ?  Very  well,  then,  I  am  still  the  head 
of  the  family.  If  he  has  any  advice  to  offer, 
he  can  come  to  me  with  it.  Eh  ?  What  ?  " 

"  Father,  I  am  as  sick  as  can  be  to-night." 

"  Go  thy  ways  then.  Mother  and  I  are  both 
poorly  too.  Good-night,  girls,  both."  And  he 
turned  away  with  an  air  of  hopeless  depression, 
that  was  far  more  pitiful  than  the  loudest  com 
plaining. 

The  sisters  went  away  together,  silent,  and 
feeling  quite  "  out "  with  each  other.  But 
Sophia  really  had  a  nervous  attack,  and  was 
shivery  and  sick  with  it.  By  the  lighted  candle 
in  her  hand,  Charlotte  saw  that  her  very  lips 
were  white,  and  that  heavy  tears  were  silently 
rolling  down  her  wan  cheeks.  They  washed 
all  of  Charlotte's  anger  away  ;  she  forgot  her 
resolution  not  to  enter  her  sister's  room  again, 
and  at  its  door  she  said,  "  Let  me  stay  with 


CHARLOTTE.  12Q 

you  till  you  can  sleep,  Sophia;  or  I  will  go, 
and  ask  Ann  to  make  you  a  cup  of  strong  cof 
fee.  You  are  suffering  very  much." 

"  Yes,  I  am  suffering  ;  and  father  knows  how 
I  do  suffer  with  these  headaches,  and  that 
any  annoyance  brings  them  on  ;  and  yet,  if 
Harry  cries  out  at  Edinburgh,  every  one  in 
Seat-Sandal  must  be  put  out  of  their  own  way 
to  help  him.  And  I  do  think  it  is  a  shame  that 
our  little  fortunes  are  to  be  crumbled  as  a  kind 
of  spice  into  his  big  fortune.  If  Harry  does 
not  know  the  value  of  money  I  do." 

"  I  will  pay  you  back  every  pound.  I  really 
do  not  care  a  bit  about  money.  I  have  all  the 
dress  I  want.  You  buy  books  and  music,  I  do 
not.  I  have  no  use  for  my  money  except  to 
make  happiness  with  it ;  and,  after  all,  that  is 
the  best  interest  I  can  possibly  get." 

"Very  well.  Then,  you  can  pay  Harry's 
debts  if  it  gives  you  pleasure.  I  suppose  I  am 
a  little  peculiar  on  this  subject.  Last  Sunday, 
when  the  rector  was  preaching  about  the  prodi 
gal  son,  I  could  not  help  thinking  that  the 
sympathy  for  the  bad  young  man  was  too  much. 
I  know,  if  I  had  been  the  elder  brother,  I  should 
have  felt  precisely  as  he  did.  I  don't  think  he 


I3O  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

ought  to  be  blamed.  And  it  would  certainly 
have  been  more  just  and  proper  for  the  father 
to  have  given  the  feast  and  the  gifts  to  the  son 
who  never  at  any  time  transgressed  his  com 
mandments.  You  see,  Charlotte,  that  parable 
is  going  on  all  over  the  world  ever  since  ;  going 
on  right  here  in  Seat-Sandal ;  and  I  am  on  the 
elder  brother's  side.  Harry  has  given  me  a 
headache  to-night ;  and  I  dare  say  he  is  enjoy 
ing  himself  precisely  as  the  Jerusalem  prodigal 
did  before  the  swine  husks,  when  it  was  the 
riotous  living." 

"  Have  a  cup  of  coffee,  Sophy.  I'll  go  down 
for  it.  You  are  just  as  trembly  and  excited  as 
you  can  be." 

"  Very  well ;  thank  you,  Charlotte.  You 
always  have  such  a  bright,  kind  face.  I  am 
afraid  I  do  not  deserve  such  a  good  sister." 

"  Yes,  you  do  deserve  all  I  can  help  or  pleas 
ure  you  in."  And  then,  when  the  coffee  had 
been  taken,  and  Sophia  lay  restless  and  wide- 
eyed  upon  her  bed,  Charlotte  proposed  to  read 
to  her  from  any  book  she  desired ;  an  offer 
involving  no  small  degree  of  self-denial,  for 
Sophia's  books  were  very  rarely  interesting,  or 
even  intelligible,  to  her  sister.  But  she  lifted 


CHARLOTTE.  131 

the  nearest  two,  Barret's  "Maga,"  and  "The 
Veiled  Prophet,"  and  rather  dismally  asked 
which  it  was  to  be  ? 

"  Neither  of  them,  Charlotte.  The  "  Maga  " 
makes  me  think,  and  I  know  you  detest  poetry. 
I  got  a  letter  to-night  from  Agnes  Bulteel,  and 
it  appears  to  be  about  Professor  Sedgwick.  I 
was  so  annoyed  at  Harry  I  could  not  feel  any 
interest  in  it  then  ;  but,  if  you  don't  object,  I 
should  like  to  hear  you  read  it  now." 

"Object?  No,  indeed.  I  think  a  great  deal 
of  the  old  professor.  What  gay  times  father 
and  I  have  had  on  the  Screes  with  him,  and 
his  hammer  and  leather  bags  !  And,  as  Agnes 
writes  a  large,  round  hand,  and  does  not  fresco 
her  letters,  I  can  read  about  the  professor  easily. 

RESPECTED  Miss  SANDAL,  —  I  have  such  a  thing  to 
tell  you  about  Professor  Sedgwick  and  our  Joe ;  hoping 
that  the  squire  or  Miss  Charlotte  may  see  him,  and  let 
him  know  that  Joe  meant  no  harm  at  all.  One  hot  fore 
noon  lately,  when  we  were  through  at  home,  an  old  gen 
tlemanly  make  of  a  fellow  came  into  our  fold,  and  said, 
quite  natural,  that  he  wanted  somebody  to  go  with  him 
on  to  the  fells.  We  ail  stopped,  and  took  a  good  look 
at  him  before  anybody  spoke ;  but  at  last  father  said, 
middling  sharp-like,  —  he  always  speaks  that  way,  does 
father,  when  we're  busy,  — 


132  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

"  We've  something  else  to  do  here  than  go  raking 
over  the  fells  on  a  fine  day  like  this  with  nobody  knows 
who." 

He  gave  father  a  lile,  cheerful  bit  of  a  laugh,  and  said 
he  didn't  want  to  hinder  work ;  but  he  would  give  any 
body  that  knew  the  fells  well  a  matter  of  five  shillings 
to  go  with  him,  and  carry  his  two  little  bags.  And 
father  says  to  our  Joe,  "  Away  with  thee  !  It's  a  crown 
more  than  ever  thou  was  worth  at  home."  So  the 
strange  man  gave  Joe  two  little  leather  bags  to  carry ; 
and  Joe  thought  he  was  going  to  make  his  five  shillings 
middling  easy,  for  he  never  expected  he  would  find  any 
thing  on  the  fells  to  put  into  the  bags.  But  Joe  was 
mistaken.  The  old  gentleman,  he  said,  went  louping 
over  wet  spots  and  great  stones,  and  scraffling  over 
crags  and  screes,  till  you  would  have  thought  he  was 
some  kin  to  a  Herdwick  sheep. 

Charlotte  laughed  heartily  at  this  point. 
"  It  is  just  the  way  Sedgwick  goes  on.  He  led 
father  and  me  exactly  such  a  chase  one  day 
last  June." 

"  I  dare  say  he  did.  I  remember  you  looked 
like  it.  Go  on." 

After  a  while  he  began  looking  hard  at  all  the  stones 
and  crags  he  came  to  ;  and  then  he  took  to  breaking 
lumps  off  them  with  a  queer  little  hammer  he  had  with 
him,  and  stuffing  the  bits  into  the  bags  that  Joe  was  car 
rying.  He  fairly  capped  Joe  then.  He  couldn't  tell  what 


CHARLOTTE.  133 

to  make  of  such  a  customer.  At  last  Joe  asked  him 
why  ever  he  came  so  far  up  the  fell  for  little  bits  of 
stone,  when  he  might  get  so  many  down  in  the  dales  ? 
He  laughed,  and  went  on  knapping  away  with  his  little 
hammer,  and  said  he  was  a  jolly-jist. 

"  Geologist  she  means,  Charlotte." 

"Of  course;  but  Agnes  spells  it  ' jolly-jist."1 

"  Agnes  ought  to  know  better.     She  waited 

table  frequently,  and  must  have  heard  the  word 

pronounced.     Go  on,  Charlotte." 

He  kept  on  at  this  feckless  work  till  late  in  the  after 
noon,  and  by  that  time  he  had  filled  both  bags  full  with 
odd  bits  of  stone.  Joe  said  he  hadn't  often  had  a  harder 
darrack  after  sheep  at  clipping-time  than  he  had  after 
that  old  man,  carrying  his  leather  bags.  But,  however, 
they  got  back  to  our  house,  and  mother  gave  the  stranger 
some  bread  and  milk ;  and  after  he  had  taken  it,  and 
talked  with  father  about  sheep-farming  and  such  like,  he 
paid  Joe  his  five  shillings  like  a  man,  and  told  him  he 
would  give  him  another  five  shillings  if  he  would  bring 
his  bags  full  of  stones  down  to  Skeal-Hill  by  nine  o'clock 
in  the  morning. 

"Are  you  sleepy  Sophy?  " 
"  Oh,  dear,  no  !     Go  on." 

Next  morning  Joe  took  the  bags,  and  started  for 
Skeal-Hill.  It  was  another  hot  morning ;  and  he  hadn't 
gone  far  till  he  began  to  think  that  he  was  as  great  a 


134  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

fool  as  the  jolly-jist  to  carry  broken  stones  to  Skeal-Hillr 
when  he  could  find  plenty  on  any  road-side  close  to 
the  place  he  was  going  to.  So  he  shook  them  out  of  the 
bags,  and  stepped  on  a  gay  bit  lighter  without  them. 
When  he  got  near  to  Skeal-Hill  he  found  old  Abraham 
Atchisson  sitting  on  a  stool,  breaking  stones  to  mend 
roads  with ;  and  Joe  asked  him  if  he  could  fill  his  leather 
bags  from  his  heap.  Abraham  told  Joe  to  take  them 
that  wasn't  broken  if  he  wanted  stones  ;  so  Joe  told  him 
how  it  was,  and  all  about  it.  The  old  man  was  like  to 
tottle  off  his  stool  with  laughing,  and  he  said,  "Joe  take 
good  care  of  thysen';  thou  art  over  sharp  to  live  very  long 
in  this  world ;  fill  thy  bags,  and  make  on  with  thee." 

"  Don't  you  remember  old  Abraham,  Sophy  ?• 
He  built  the  stone  dyke  at  the  lower  fold." 
"No,  I  do  not  remember,  I  think." 
"  You  are  getting  sleepy.     Shall  I  stop  ? " 
"No,  no  ;  finish  the  letter." 

When  Joe  got  to  Skeal-Hill,  the  jolly-jist  had  just 
got  his  breakfast,  and  they  took  Joe  into  the  parlor  to 
him.  He  laughed  all  over  when  Joe  went  in  with  the 
bags,  and  told  him  to  set  them  down  in  a  corner,  and 
asked  him  if  he  would  have  some  breakfast.  Joe  had 
had  his  porridge,  but  he  said  he  didn't  mind  ;  so  he 
told  them  to  bring  in  some  more  coffee  and  eggs,  and 
ham  and  toasted  bread  ;  and  Joe  got  such  a  breakfast  as 
isn't  common  with  him,  while  the  old  gentleman  was 
getting  himself  ready  to  go  off  in  a  carriage  that  was. 


CHARLOTTE.  135 

waiting  at  the  door  for  him.  When  he  came  down-stairs 
he  gave  Joe  another  five  shillings,  and  paid  for  Joe's 
breakfast,  and  for  what  he  had  eaten  himself.  Then  he 
told  him  to  put  the  leather  bags  beside  the  driver's  feet, 
and  into  the  carriage  he  got,  and  laughed,  and  nodded, 
and  away  he  went ;  and  then  Joe  heard  them  say  he 
was  Professor  Sedgwick,  a  great  jolly-jist.  And  Joe 
thinks  it  would  be  a  famous  job  if  father  could  sell  all 
•of  the  stones  on  our  fell  at  five  shillings  a  bagful,  and  a 
.breakfast  at  odd  times.  And  would  it  not  be  so,  Miss 
Sandal  ?  But  I'm  not  easy  in  my  mind  about  Joe  chan 
ging  the  stones  ;  though,  as  Joe  says,  one  make  of  stone 

is  about  the  same  as  another. 

i 

"  Sophia,  you  are  sleepy  now." 
"  Yes,  a  little.  You  can  finish  to-morrow." 
Then  she  laid  down  the  simple  letter,  and  sat 
very  still  for  a  little  while.  Her  heart  was 
busy.  There  is  a  solitary  place  that  girdles 
our  life  into  which  it  is  good  to  enter  at  the 
close  of  every  day.  There  we  may  sit  still 
with  our  own  soul,  and  commune  with  it ;  and 
•out  of  its  peace  pass  easily  into  the  shadowy 
kingdom  of  sleep,  and  find  a  little  space  of 
rest  prepared.  So  Charlotte  sat  in  quiet  medi 
tation  until  Sophia  was  fathoms  deep  below 
the  tide  of  life.  Sight,  speech,  feeling,  where 
were  they  gone  ?  Ah !  when  the  door  is 


136  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

closed,  and  the  windows  darkened,  who  can  tell 

what  passes  in  the  solemn  temple  of  mortality  ? 

Are   we    unvisited    then  ?     Unfriended  ?     Un- 

counselled  ? 

"  Behold ! 

The  solemn  spaces  of  the  night  are  thronged 
By  bands  of  tender  dreams,  that  come  and  go 
Over  the  land  and  sea  ;  they  glide  at  will 
Through  all  the  dim,  strange  realms  of  men  asleep, 
And  visit  every  soul." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    DAY   BEFORE   CHRISTMAS. 

"  Still  to  ourselves  in  every  place  consigned, 
Our  own  felicity  we  make  or  find." 

"Catch,  then,  oh,  catch  the  transient  hour! 

Improve  each  moment  as  it  flies. 
Life's  a  short  summer,  man  a  flower ; 
He  dies,  alas !  how  soon  he  dies ! " 

r INHERE  are  days  which  rise  sadly,  go.  on 
-*•  without  sunshine,  and  pass  into  night 
without  one  gleam  of  color.  Life,  also,  has 
these  pallid,  monotonous  hours.  A  distrust  of 
all  things  invades  the  soul,  and  physical  inertia 
and  mental  languor  make  daily  existence  a  sim 
ple  weight.  It  was  Christmas-time,  but  the 
squire  felt  none  of  the  elation  of  the  season. 
He  was  conscious  that  the  old  festal  prepara 
tions  were  going  on,  but  there  was  no  response 
to  them  in  his  heart.  Julius  had  arrived,  and 
was  helping  Sophia  to  hang  the  holly  and  mis 
tletoe.  But  Sandal  knew  that  his  soul  shrank 

137 


138          THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

from  the  nephew  he  had  called  into  his  life ; 
knew  that  the  sound  of  his  voice  irritated  him, 
that  his  laugh  filled  him  with  resentment,  that 
his  very  presence  in  the  house  seemed  to  dese 
crate  it,  and  to  slay  for  him  the  very  idea  of 
home. 

He  was  sitting  in  the  "  master's  room,"  won 
dering  how  the  change  had  come  about.  But 
he  found  nothing  to  answer  the  wonder,  be 
cause  he  was  looking  for  some  palpable  wrong, 
some  distinctive  time  or  cause.  He  was  him 
self  too  simple-hearted  to  reflect  that  it  is  sel 
dom  a  great  fault  which  destroys  liking  for  a 
person.  A  great  fault  can  be  forgiven.  It  is 
small  personal  offences  constantly  repeated ; 
little  acts  of  meanness,  and,  above  all,  the  petty 
plans  and  provisions  of  a  selfish  nature.  Be 
sides  which,  the  soul  has  often  marvellous 
intuitions,  unmasking  men  and  things ;  pre 
monitions,  warnings,  intelligences,  that  it  can 
not  doubt  and  cannot  explain. 

Inside  the  house  there  was  a  pleasant  air  and 
stir  of  preparation ;  the  rapid  movements  of  ser 
vants,  the  shutting  and  opening  of  doors,  the 
low  laughter  of  gay  hearts  well  contented  with 
the  time  and  the  circumstances.  Outside,  the 


THE  DAY  BEFORE  CHRISTMAS.  139 

mesmerizing  snow  was  falling  with  a  soft, 
silent  persistence.  The  squire  looked  sadly  at 
the  white  hills,  and  the  white  park,  and  the 
branches  bending  under  their  load,  and  the 
sombre  sky,  gray  upon  darker  gray. 

Last  Christmas  the  girls  had  relied  entirely 
upon  his  help.  He  had  found  the  twine,  and 
driven  the  nails,  and  steadied  the  ladder  when 
Sophia's  light  form  mounted  it  in  order  to 
hang  the  mistletoe.  They  had  been  so  happy. 
The  echo  of  their  voices,  their  snatches  of 
Christmas  carols,  their  laughter  and  merry 
badinage,  was  still  in  his  heart.  He  remem 
bered  the  impromptu  lunch,  which  they  had 
enjoyed  so  much  while  at  work.  He  could  see 
the  mother  come  smiling  in,  with  constant  sam 
ples  of  the  Christmas  cheer  fresh  out  of  the 
oven.  He  had  printed  the  verses  and  mottoes 
himself,  spent  all  the  afternoon  over  them,  and 
been  rather  proud  of  his  efforts.  Charlotte 
had  said,  "  they  were  really  beautiful ; "  even 
Sophia  had  admitted  that  "they  looked  well 
among  the  greens."  But  to-day  he  had  not 
been  asked  to  assist  in  the  decorations.  True, 
he  had  said,  in  effect,  that  he  did  not  wish  to 
assist ;  but,  all  the  same,  he  felt  shut  out  from 


I4O  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

his  old  pre-eminence ;  and  he  could  not  help 
regarding  Julius  Sandal  as  a  usurper. 

These  were  drearisome  Christmas  thoughts 
and  feelings ;  and  they  found  their  climax  in  a 
pathetic  complaint,  "  I  never  thought  Charlotte 
would  have  given  me  the  go-by.  All  along 
she  has  taken  my  side,  no  matter  what  came 
up.  Oh,  my  little  lass  ! " 

As  if  in  answer  to  the  heart-cry,  Charlotte 
opened  the  door.  She  was  dressed  in  furs  and 
tweeds,  and  she  had  the  squire's  big  coat  and 
woollen  wraps  in  her  hand.  Before  he  could 
speak,  she  had  reached  his  chair,  and  put  her 
arm  across  his  shoulder,  and  said  in  her  bright, 
confidential  way,  "  Come,  father,  let  you  and 
me  have  a  bit  of  pleasure  by  ourselves  :  there 
isn't  much  comfort  in  the  house  to-day." 

"You  say  right,  Charlotte;  you  do  so,  my 
dear.  Where  shall  we  go  ?  Eh  ?  Where  ?  " 

"  Wherever  you  like  best.  There  is  no  snow 
to  hamper  us  yet.  Some  of  the  servants  are 
down  from  Up-Hill.  Ducie  has  sent  mother  a 
great  spice-loaf  and  a  fine  Christmas  cheese." 

"  Ducie  is  a  kind  woman.  I  have  known 
Ducie  ever  since  I  knew  myself.  Could  we 
climb  the  fell-breast,  Charlotte  ?  Eh  ?  What  ?  " 


THE  DAY  BEFORE   CHRISTMAS.  14! 

"  I  think  we  could.  Ducie  will  miss  it,  if  you 
don't  go  and  wish  her  'a  merry  Christmas.' 
You  never  missed  grandfather  Latrigg.  Old 
friends  are  best,  father." 

"  They  are  that.     Is  Steve  at  home  ? " 

"  He  isn't  coming  home  this  Christmas.  I 
wasn't  planning  about  Steve,  father.  Don't 
think  such  a  thing  as  that  of  me." 

"  I  don't,  Charlotte.  I  don't  think  of  Char 
lotte  Sandal  and  of  any  thing  underhand  at  the 
same  time.  I'm  a  bit  troubled  and  out  of  sorts 
this  morning,  my  dear." 

She  kissed  him  affectionately  for  answer. 
She  not  only  divined  what  a  trial  Julius  had 
become,  but  she  knew  also  that  his  heart  was 
troubled  in  far  greater  depths  than  Julius  had 
any  power  to  stir.  Harry  Sandal  was  really  at 
the  root  of  every  bitter  moment.  For  Harry 
had  not  taken  the  five  hundred  pounds  with  the 
creditable  contrite  humiliation  of  the  repenting 
prodigal.  It  was  even  yet  doubtful  whether  he 
would  respond  to  his  parents'  urgent  request 
to  spend  Christmas  at  Seat-Sandal.  And  when 
there  is  one  rankling  wrong,  which  we  do  not 
like  to  speak  of,  it  is  so  natural  to  relieve  the 
heart  by  talking  a  great  deal  about  those 


142  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

wrongs  which  we  are  less  inclined  to  disguise 
and  deny. 

In  the  great  hall  a  sudden  thought  struck 
the  squire;  and  he  stood  still,  and  looked  in 
Charlotte's  face.  "  You  are  sure  that  you  want 
to  go,  my  dear  ?  Won't  you  be  missed  ?  Eh  ? 
What  ?  " 

She  clasped  his  hand  tighter,  and  shook 
her  head  very  positively.  "  They  don't  want 
me,  father.  I  am  in  the  way." 

He  did  not  answer  until  they  had  walked 
some  distance  ;  then  he  asked  meaningly,  "  Has 
it  come  to  that  ?  Eh  ?  What  ?  '* 

"Yes,  it  has  come  to  that." 

"  I  am  very  glad  it  isn't  you.  And  I'm  net 
tled  at  myself  for  ever  showing  him  a  road  to 
slight  you,  Charlotte." 

"  If  there  is  any  slight  between  Julius  and 
me,  father,  I  gave  it  ;  for  he  asked  me  to  marry 
him,  and  I  plainly  told  him  no." 

"Hear — you  —  but.  I  am  glad,  You  refused 
him  ?  Come,  come,  that's  a  bit  of  pleasure  I 
would  have  given  a  matter  of  five  pounds  to 
have  known  a  day  or  two  since.  It  would  have 
saved  me  a  few  good  ratings.  Eh  ?  What  ? " 

"  Why,  father !     Who  has  been  rating  you  ? " 


THE  DAY  BEFORE   CHRISTMAS.  143 

"  Myself,  to  be  sure.  You  can't  think  what 
set-downs  I  have  given  William  Sandal.  Do 
you  mind  telling  me  about  that  refusal,  Char 
lotte?  Eh?  What?" 

"  Not  a  bit.  It  was  in  the  harvest-field.  He 
said  he  loved  me,  and  I  told  him  gentlemen  did 
not  talk  that  way  to  girls  who  had  never  given 
them  the  least  encouragement ;  and  I  said  I  did 
not  love  him,  and  never,  never  could  love  him. 
I  was  very  firm,  father,  perhaps  a  little  bit 
cross ;  for  I  did  not  like  the  way  he  spoke.  I 
don't  think  he  admires  me  at  all  now." 

"  I  dare  be  bound  he  doesn't.  '  Firm  and  a 
little  bit  cross.'  It  wouldn't  be  a  nice  five 
minutes  for  Julius.  .  He  sets  a  deal  of  store  by 
himself ;  "  and  then,  as  if  he  thought  it  was  his 
duty  not  to  show  too  much  gratification,  he 
added,  "  I  hope  you  were  very  civil,  Charlotte. 
A  good  asker  should  have  a  good  nay-say. 
And  you  refused  him  ?  Well,  I  am  pleased. 
Mother  never  heard  tell  of  it  ?  Eh  ?  What  ? " 

"  Oh,  no ;  I  have  told  no  one  but  you.  At 
the  long  end  you  always  get  at  my  secrets, 
father." 

"  We've  had  a  goodish  few  together,  —  fish 
ing  secrets,  and  such  like ;  but  I  must  tell 


144  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

mother  this  one,  eh  ?  She  will  go  on  about  it. 
In  the  harvest-field,  was  it  ?  I  understand  now 
why  he  walked  himself  off  a  day  or  two  before 
the  set  day.  And  he  is  all  for  Sophia  now,  is 
he  ?  Well,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  Sophia  will 
'  best '  him  a  little  on  every  side.  You  have 
given  me  a  turn,  Charlotte.  I  didn't  think  of 
a  son-in-law  yet,  —  not  just  yet.  Dear  me ! 
How  life  does  go  on  !  Ever  since  the  sheep- 
shearing  it  has  been  running  away  with  me. 
Life  is  a  road  on  which  there  is  no  turning 
round,  Charlotte.  Oh,  if  there  only  were !  If 
you  could  just  run  back  to  where  you  made  the 
wrong  turning  !  If  you  could  only  undo  things 
that  you  have  done  !  Eh  ?  What  ? " 

"  Not  even  God  can  make  what  has  been,  not 
to  have  been.  When  a  thing  is  done,  if  it  is 
only  the  taking  of  a  walk,  the  walk  is  taken  to 
all  eternity." 

At  the  word  "  eternity,"  they  stood  on  the 
brow  of  the  hill  which  they  had  been  climbing, 
and  the  squire  said  it  again  very  solemnly. 
"  Eternity  !  How  dreadful  to  spend  it-  in  re 
pentance  which  can  undo  nothing !  That  is 
the  most  awful  conception  of  the  word  'eternity.' 
Eh  ?  What  ? " 


THE  DAY  BEFORE   CHRISTMAS.  145 

They  were  silent  a  moment,  then  Sandal 
turned  and  looked  westward.  "  It  is  mizzling 
already,  Charlotte ;  the  snow  will  turn  into  rain, 
and  we  shall  have  a  downpour.  Had  we  not 
better  go  home  ? " 

But  Charlotte  painted  in  such  glowing  colors 
Ducie's  fireside,  and  the  pipe,  and  the  cosey, 
quiet  dinner  they  would  be  sure  to  get  there, 
that  the  squire  could  not  resist  the  temptation. 
"  For  all  will  be  at  sixes  and  sevens  at  home," 
he  commented,  "  and  no  peace  for  anybody, 
with  greens  and  carols  and  what  not.  Eh  ? 
What?" 

"  And  very  likely,  as  it  is  Christmas  Eve,  you 
may  be  asked  to  give  Sophia  away.  So  a  nice 
dinner,  and  a  quiet  smoke,  and  an  hour's  nap 
will  help  you  through  to-night."  And  the 
thought  in  each  heart,  beyond  this  one,  was 
"  Perhaps  Harry  will  be  at  home." 

Nobody  missed  the  fugitives.  Mrs.  Sandal 
was  sure  Harry  would  come,  and  she  was  busy 
preparing  his  room  with  her  own  hands.  The 
brightest  fire,  the  gayest  greens,  the  whitest 
and  softest  and  best  of  every  thing,  she  chose 
for  Harry's  room. 

Certainly  they  were  not  missed  by  Julius  and 


146  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

Sophia.  They  were  far  too  much  interested  in 
themselves  and  in  their  own  affairs.  From  the 
first  hour  of  his  return  to  Seat-Sandal,  Sophia 
had  understood  that  Julius  was  her  lover,  and 
that  the  time  for  his  declaration  rested  in  the 
main  with  herself.  When  the  Christmas  bells 
were  ringing,  when  the  house  was  bright  with 
light  and  evergreens,  and  the  very  atmosphere 
full  of  happiness,  she  had  determined  to  give 
him  the  necessary  encouragement.  But  the 
clock  of  Fate  cannot  be  put  back.  When  the 
moment  arrives,  the  word  is  spoken  or  the  deed 
done.  Both  of  them  were  prepared  for  the 
moment,  and  yet  not  just  then  prepared  ;  for 
Love  still  holds  his  great  surprise  somewhat  in 
reserve. 

They  were  in  the  drawing-room.  The  last 
vase  had  been  filled,  the  last  wreath  hung ; 
and  Sophia  looked  at  her  beautiful  hands, 
marked  with  the  rim  of  the  scissors,  and  stained 
with  leaves  and  berries,  in  a  little  affected 
distress.  Julius  seated  himself  on  the  sofa 
beside  her.  She  trembled,  but  he  looked  at  her 
almost  triumphantly.  Over  Sophia's  heart  he 
knew  his  power.  With  the  questioning,  un 
winking  gaze  of  love  his  eyes  sought  hers,  and 


THE  DAY  BEFORE   CHRISTMAS. 

he  tenderly  spoke  her  name,  "  Sophia"  She 
could  answer  only  by  her  conscious  silence. 

"My  wife  !     Mine  in  lives  long  forgotten." 

"O  Julius!" 

"  Always  mine  ;  missed  in  some  existences, 
recovered  in  others,  but  bringing  into  every  life 
with  you  my  mark  of  ownership.  See  here." 

Then  he  lifted  her  hand,  and  opening  its 
palm  upward,  he  placed  his  own  in  the  same 
attitude  beside  it.  "  Look  into  them  both, 
Sophia,  and  see  how  closely  our  line  of  fortune 
is  alike.  Thai  is  something,  but  behold." 
And  he  showed  her  a  singular  mark,  which  had 
in  his  own  palm  its  precise  counterpart. 

"Is  it  not  also  in  Charlotte's  palm?  In 
others  ? " 

"  No,  indeed.  Among  all  the  women  on 
earth,  only  yours  has  this  facsimile  of  my  own. 
It  is  the  soul  mark  upon  the  body.  Every 
educated  Hindoo  can  trace  it ;  and  all  will  tell 
you,  that,  if  two  individuals  have  it  precisely 
alike,  they  are  twin  souls,  and  nothing  can  pre 
vent  their  union." 

"  Did  they  explain  it  to  you,  Julius  ?  " 

"An  Oriental  never  explains.  They  appre 
hend  what  is  too  subtle  for  words.  They  know 


148  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

best  just  what  they  have  never  been  told. 
Sophia,  this  hand  of  yours  fits  mine.  It  is  the 
key  to  it ;  the  interpreter  of  my  fate.  Give  me 
my  own,  darling." 

To  Charlotte  he  would  never  have  spoken  in 
such  a  tone.  She  would  have  resented  its 
claim  and  authority,  and  perceived  that  it  was 
likely  to  be  the  first  encroachment  of  a  tyranny 
she  did  not  intend  to  bow  to.  But  Sophia  was 
easily  deceived  on  this  ground.  She  liked  the 
mystical  air  it  gave  to  the  event ;  the  gray 
sanction  of  unknown  centuries  to  the  love  of 
to-day. 

They  speculated  and  supposed,  and  were 
supremely  happy.  The  usual  lover  wanders  in 
the  dreams  of  the  future :  they  sought  each 
other  through  the  phantom  visions  of  the  past. 
And  they  were  so  charmed  with  the  occupation, 
that  they  quite  forgot  the  exigencies  and  claims 
of  the  present  existence  until  the  rattle  of 
wheels,  the  stamping  of  feet,  and  a  joyful  cry 
from  Mrs.  Sandal  recalled  them  to  it. 

"  It  is  Harry,"  said  Sophia.  "  I  must  go  to 
him,  Julius." 

He  held  her  very  firmly.  "I  am  first. 
Wait  a  moment.  You  must  promise  me  once 


THE  DAY  BEFORE   CHRISTMAS.  149 

more  :  '  My  life  is  your  life,  my  love  is  your 
love,  my  will  is  your  will,  my  interest  is  your 
interest ;  I  am  your  second  self.'  Will  you  say 
this  Sophia,  as  I  say  it  ? "  And  she  answered 
him  without  a  word.  Love  knows  how  such 
speech  may  be.  Even  when  she  had  escaped 
from  her  lover,  she  was  not  very  sorry  to  find 
that  Harry  had  gone  at  once  to  his  own  room  ; 
for  he  had  driven  through  the  approaching 
storm,  and  been  thoroughly  drenched.  She 
was  longing  for  a  little  solitude  to  bethink  her 
of  the  new  position  in  which  she  found  herself ; 
for,  though  she  had  a  dreamy  curiosity  about 
her  pre-existences,  she  had  a  very  active  and 
positive  interest  in  the  success  and  happiness 
of  her  present  life. 

Suddenly  she  remembered  Charlotte,  and 
with  the  remembrance  came  the  fact  that  she 
had  not  seen  her  since  the  early  forenoon.  But 
she  immediately  coupled  the  circumstance  with 
the  absence  of  the  squire,  and  then  she  reached 
the  real  solution  of  the  position  in  a  moment. 
"They  have  gone  to  Up-Hill,  of  course.  Father 
always  goes  the  day  before  Christmas ;  and 
Charlotte,  no  doubt,  expected  to  find  Steve  at 
home.  I  must  tell  Julius  about  Charlotte  and 


I5O  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

Steve.  Julius  will  not  approve  of  a  young  man 
like  Steve  in  our  family,  and  it  ought  not  to  be. 
I  am  sure  father  and  mother  think  so." 

At  this  point  in  her  reflections,  she  heard 
Charlotte  enter  her  own  room,  but  she  did  not 
go  to  her.  Sophia  had  a  dislike  to  wet,  untidy 
people,  and  she  was  not  in  any  particular  flurry 
to  tell  her  success.  Indeed,  she  was  rather 
inclined  to  revel  for  an  hour  in  the  sense  of 
it  belonging  absolutely  to  Julius  and  herself. 
She  was  not  one  of  those  impolitic  women, 
who  fancy  that  they  double  their  happiness  by 
imparting  it  to  others. 

She  determined  to  dress  with  extraordinary 
care.  The  occasion  warranted  it,  surely ;  for 
it  was  not  only  Christmas  Eve,  it  was  also  her 
betrothal  eve.  She  put  on  her  richest  garment, 
a  handsome  gown  of  dark  blue  silk  and  velvet. 
A  spray  of  mistletoe-berries  was  in  her  black 
hair,  and  a  glittering  necklace  of  fine  sapphires 
enhanced  the  beauty  and  whiteness  of  her 
exquisite  neck  and  shoulders.  She  was  de 
lighted  with  the  effect  of  her  own  brave 
apparel,  and  also  a  little  excited  with  the 
course  events  had  taken,  or  she  never  would 
have  so  far  forgotten  the  privileges  of  her  elder 


THE  DAY  BEFORE   CHRISTMAS.  151 

"birth  as  to  visit  Charlotte's  room  first  on  such 
an  important  personal  occasion. 

Charlotte  was  still  wrapped  in  her  dressing- 
gown,  lazily  musing  before  the  crackling,  blaz 
ing  fire.  Her  hands  were  clasped  above  her 
head,  her  feet  comfortably  extended  upon  the 
fender,  her  eyes  closed.  She  had  been  a  little 
tired  with  buffeting  the  storm  ;  and  the  hot  tea, 
which  Mrs.  Sandal  had  insisted  upon  as  a  pre- 
ventative  of  cold,  had  made  her,  as  she  told 
Sophia,  "deliciously  dozy." 

"But  dinner  will  be  ready  in  half  an  hour, 
and  you  have  to  dress  yet,  Charlotte.  How  do 
I  look  ?  " 

"You  look  charming.  How  bright  your 
eyes  are,  Sophia !  I  never  saw  you  look  so 
well.  How  much  Julius  will  admire  you  to 
night  !  " 

"  As  to  that,  Julius  always  admires  me.  He 
says  he  used  to  dream  about  me,  even  before 
he  saw  me." 

"  Oh,  you  know  that  is  nonsense !  He  couldn't 
do  that.  I  dare  say  he  dreams  about  you  now, 
though.  I  should  think  he  would  like  to." 

You  will  have  to  hurry,  Charlotte." 

"I  can  dress  in  ten  minutes  if  I  want  to." 


152  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

"  I  will  leave  you  now."  She  hesitated  a 
moment  at  the  door,  but  she  could  not  bring 
herself  to  speak  of  her  engagement.  She  saw 
that  Charlotte  was  in  one  of  her  "  no-matter- 
every-thing-right "  moods,  and  knew  she  would 
take  the  important  news  without  the  proper 
surprise  and  enthusiasm.  In  fact,  she  per 
ceived  that  Harry's  visit  occupied  her  whole 
mind ;  for,  as  she  stood  a  moment  or  two  irreso 
lute  as  to  her  own  desires,  Charlotte  talked1 
eagerly  of  her  brother. 

"  Well,  I  hope  if  Harry  is  of  so  much  impor 
tance  in  your  eyes,  you  will  dress  decently  to- 
meet  him.  The  rector  is  coming  to  dinner 
also." 

"  I  shall  wear  my  blue  gown.  If  I  imitate 
you,  I  cannot  be  much  out  of  the  way.  Heigh- 
ho  !  Heigh-ho !  I  hope  Harry  will  have  a 
pleasant  visit.  We  must  do  our  best,  Sophia, 
to  make  him  happy." 

"  O  Charlotte,  if  you  have  nothing  to  talk 
about  but  Harry,  Harry,  Harry,  I  am  going ! 
I  am  very  fond  of  Harry,  but  I  don't  pretend  to- 
be  blind  to  Harry's  faults.  Remember  how- 
many  disagreeable  hours  he  has  given  us  lately. 
And  I  must  say  that  I  think  he  was  very 


THE  DAY  BEFORE   CHRISTMAS.  153 

ungrateful  about  the  hundred  and  eighty  pounds 
I  gave  him.  He  never  wrote  me  a  line  of 
thanks." 

"  You  did  not  give  it  to  Harry,  you  loaned  it 
to  me.  Be  just  Sophia.  I  have  paid  you  fif 
teen  pounds  of  it  back  already,  and  I  shall  not 
buy  a  single  new  dress  until  it  is  all  returned. 
You  will  not  lose  a  shilling,  Sophia." 

"  How  Quixotic  you  can  be  !  However,  it  is 
no  use  exciting  ourselves  to-night.  One  likes 
to  keep  the  peace  at  Yule-tide,  and  so  I  will 
bow  down  to  your  idol  as  much  as  I  can  con 
scientiously." 

Charlotte  made  no  answer.  She  had  risen 
hastily,  and  with  rather  unnecessary  vigor  was 
rattling  the  ewer  and  basin,  and  plashing  out 
the  water.  Sophia  came  back  into  the  room, 
arranged  the  glass  at  the  proper  angle  to  give 
her  a  last  comprehensive  review  of  herself  ;  and 
this  being  quite  satisfactory,  she  went  away 
with  a  smiling  complacency,  and  a  subdued 
excitement  of  manner,  which  in  some  peculiar 
way  revealed  to  Charlotte  the  real  position  of 
affairs  between  her  sister  and  Julius  Sandal. 

"  She  might  have  told  me."  She  dashed 
the  water  over  her  face  at  the  implied  com- 


154  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

plaint ;  and  it  was  easy  to  see,  from  the  impa 
tient  way  in  which  she  subsequently  unbound 
her  hair,  and  pulled  the  comb  through  it,  and 
from  the  irritability  of  all  her  movements,  that 
she  felt  the  omission  to  be  a  slight,  not  only 
indicating  something  not  quite  pleasant  in  the 
past,  but  prefiguring  also  she  knew  not  what 
disagreeable  feelings  for  the  future. 

"  It  is  not  Sophia's  fault,"  she  muttered ; 
"  Julius  is  to  blame  for  it.  I  think  he  really 
hates  me  now.  He  has  said  to  her,  '  There  is 
no  need  to  tell  Charlotte,  specially ;  it  will 
make  her  of  too  much  importance.  I  don't 
approve  of  Charlotte  in  many  ways.'  Oh,  I 
know  you,  sir ! "  and  with  the  thought  she 
pulled  the  string  of  her  necklace  so  impatiently 
that  it  broke ;  and  the  golden  beads  fell  to  her 
feet,  and  rolled  hither  and  thither  about  the 
room. 

The  incident  calmed  her.  She  finished  her 
toilet  in  haste,  and  went  down-stairs.  All  the 
rooms  were  lighted,  and  she  saw  Julius  and 
Sophia  pacing  up  and  down  the  main  parlor, 
hand  in  hand,  so  interested  in  their  sotto  voce 
conversation  as  to  be  quite  unconscious  that 
she  had  stood  a  moment  at  the  open  door  for 


THE  DAY  BEFORE   CHRISTMAS.  155 

their  recognition.  So  she  passed  on  without 
troubling  them.  She  heard  her  mother's  happy 
laugh  in  the  large  dining-room,  and  she  guessed 
from  its  tone  that  Harry  was  with  her.  Mrs. 
Sandal  was  beautifully  dressed  in  black  satin, 
and  she  held  in  her  hand  a  handsome  silver 
salver.  Evidently  she  had  been  about  to  leave 
the  room  with  it,  when  detained  by  some 
remark  of  her  son's ;  for  she  was  half-way 
between  the  table  and  the  door,  her  pretty, 
kindly  face  all  alight  with  love  and  happiness. 

Harry  was  standing  on  the  hearth-rug,  facing 
the  room, — a  splendidly  handsome  young  fel 
low  in  a  crimson  and  yellow  uniform.  He  was 
in  the  midst  of  a  hearty  laugh,  but  when  he 
saw  Charlotte  there  was  a  sudden  and  wonder 
ful  transformation  in  his  face.  It  grew  in  a 
moment  much  finer,  more  thoughtful,  wistful, 
human.  He  sprang  forward,  took  her  in  his 
arms,  and  kissed  her.  Then  he  held  her  from 
him  a  little,  looked  at  her  again,  and  kissed  her 
again  ;  and  with  that  last  kiss  he  whispered, 
"  You  good  sister.  You  saved  me,  Charlotte, 
with  that  five  hundred  pounds." 

"  I  would  have  given  it  had  it  been  my  all, 
had  it  been  fifty  times  as  much,  Harry." 


156          THE  SQUIRE  OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

There  was  no  need  to  say  another  word. 
Harry  and  Charlotte  understood  each  other, 
and  Harry  turned  the  conversation  upon  his 
cousin. 

"  This  Indian  fellow,  this  Sandal  of  the 
Brahminical  caste,  what  is  he  like,  Charley  ? " 

"  He  does  not  admire  me,  Harry ;  so  how 
can  I  admire  him  ? " 

"  Then  there  must  be  something  wrong 
with  him  in  the  fundamentals ;  a  natural- 
born  inability  to  admire  what  is  lovely  and 
good." 

"  You  mustn't  say  such  a  thing  as  that, 
Harry.  I  am  sure  that  Sophia  is  engaged  to 
him." 

"  Does  father  like  him  ?  " 

"  Not  much ;  but  Julius  is  a  Sandal,  after 
all,  and  "  — 

"  After  me,  the  next  heir.  Exactly.  It  shall 
not  be  my  fault,  Charley,  if  he  does  not  stand 
a  little  farther  off  soon.  I  can  get  married 
too." 

"  O  Harry,  if  you  only  would !  It  is  your 
duty ;  and  there  is  little  Emily  Beverley.  She 
is  so  beautiful  and  good,  and  she  adores  you, 
Harry." 


THE  DAY  BEFORE   CHRISTMAS.  157 

"  Dear  little  Emmy.  I  used  to  love  Emmy 
a  long  time  ago." 

"  It  would  make  father  so  happy,  and  mother 
and  me  too.  And  the  Beverleys  are  related  to 
mother,  —  and  isn't  mother  sweet.  Father  was 
saying  "  — 

At  that  moment  the  squire  entered  the  room. 
His  face  was  a  little  severe ;  but  the  moment 
his  eyes  fell  upon  Charlotte  and  Harry,  every 
line  of  sternness  was  gone  like  a  flash.  Harry's 
arm  was  round  his  sister's  waist,  her  head 
against  his  shoulder ;  but  in  a  moment  he  gently 
released  himself,  and  went  to  his  father.  And 
in  his  nineteenth-century  way  he  said  what 
the  erring  son  of  old  said,  "  Father,  I  have  not 
done  right  lately.  I  am  very  sorry." 

"  Say  no  more,  Harry,  my  lad.  There  shall 
be  no  back  reckoning  between  you  and  me. 
You  have  been  mixed  up  with  a  sight  of  follies, 
but  you  can  over-get  all  that.  You  take  after 
me  in  looks.  Up-sitting  and  down-sitting,  you 
are  my  son.  You  come  of  a  good  kind  ;  you 
have  a  kind  heart  and  plenty  of  dint ; l  now, 
then,  make  a  fresh  start,  Harry.  Oh,  my  dear, 
dear  son ! "  The  father's  eyes  were  full  of 

1  Dint,  energy. 


I  $8  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE, 

tears,  his  face  shone  with  love,  and  he  held  the 
young  man's  hand  in  a  clasp  which  forgave 
every  thing  in  the  past,  and  promised  every 
thing  for  the  future. 

Then  Julius  and  Sophia  came  in,  and  there 
was  barely  time  to  introduce  the  young  men 
before  dinner  was  served.  They  disliked  each 
other  on  sight ;  indeed,  the  dislike  was  anterior 
to  sight,  and  may  be  said  to  have  commenced 
when  Harry  first  heard  how  thoroughly  at 
home  Julius  had  made  himself  at  Seat-Sandal, 
and  when  Julius  first  saw  what  a  desirable 
estate  and  fine  old  "  seat "  Harry's  existence 
deprived  him  of.  And  in  half  an  hour  this 
general  aversion  began  to  particularize  itself. 
The  slim,  suave  youth,  with  his  black  eyes  and 
soft  speech,  and  small  hands  and  feet,  seemed 
to  Harry  Sandal  in  every  respect  an  interloper. 
The  Saxon  in  this  Sandal  was  lost  in  the 
Oriental.  The  two  races  were,  indeed,  dis 
tinctly  evident  in  the  two  men  in  many  ways, 
but  noticeably  in  their  eyes :  Harry's  being 
large,  blue,  and  wide  open ;  those  of  Julius, 
very  black ;  and  in  their  long,  narrow  setting 
and  dreamy  look,  expressing  centuries  of  tran 
quil  contemplation. 


THE  DAY  BEFORE   CHRISTMAS.  159 

But  the  dinner  passed  off  very  pleasantly, 
more  so  than  family  festivals  usually  pass. 
After  it  the  lovers  went  into  private  session  to 
consider  whether  they  should  declare  their  new 
relationship  during  the  evening,  or  wait  until 
Julius  could  have  a  private  audience  with  the 
squire.  Sophia  was  inclined  to  the  first  course, 
because  of  the  presence  of  the  rector.  She 
felt  that  his  blessing  on  her  betrothal  would 
add  a  religious  grace  to  the  event,  but  Julius 
was  averse  to  speak  on  any  matter  so  private 
to  himself  before  Harry  Sandal.  He  felt  that 
he  could  neither  endure  his  congratulations  nor 
his  dissent ;  that,  in  fact,  he  did  not  want  his 
opinion  on  the  matter  at  all.  Besides,  he  had 
determined  to  have  but  one  discussion  of  the 
affair,  and  that  must  include  all  pertaining  to 
Sophia's  rights  and  her  personal  fortune. 

While  they  were  deciding  this  momentous 
question,  the  rector  and  Charlotte  were  singing 
over  the  carols  for  the  Christmas  service  ;  the 
squire  was  smoking  and  listening ;  and  Harry 
was  talking  in  a  low  voice  to  his  mother.  But 
after  the  rector  had  gone,  it  became  very  diffi 
cult  to  avoid  a  feeling  of  ennui  and  restraint, 
although  it  was  Christmas  Eve.  Mrs. 


I6O  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

soon  went  into  the  housekeeper's  room  to 
assist  in  the  preparation  of  the  Yule  ham 
pers  for  the  families  of  the  men  who  worked 
on  the  estate.  Sandal  fell  into  a  musing  fit, 
and  soon  appeared  to  be  dozing ;  although 
Charlotte  saw  that  he  occasionally  opened  his 
eyes,  and  looked  at  the  whispering  lovers,  or 
else  shot  her  a  glance  full  of  sympathetic  in 
telligence. 

Music  has  many  according  charms,  and  Char 
lotte  tried  it,  but  with  small  success.  Julius 
and  Sophia  had  a  song  in  their  own  hearts,  and 
this  night  they  knew  no  other.  Harry  loved 
his  sister  very  dearly,  but  he  was  not  inclined 
to  "  carolling ; "  and  the  repression  and  con 
straint  were  soon  evident  through  all  the  con 
ventional  efforts  to  be  "  merry."  It  was  the 
squire  who  finally  hit  upon  the  circumstance 
which  tided  over  the  evening,  and  sent  every 
one  to  bed  in  a  ripple  of  laughter.  For,  when 
the  piano  was  closed,  he  opened  his  eyes,  and 
said,  "  Sophia,  your  mother  tells  me  she  has 
had  a  very  nice  Christmas  present  from  the  lit 
tle  maid  you  took  such  a  liking  to,  —  little  Agnes 
Bulteel.  It  is  a  carriage  hap  made  of  sheep 
skins  white  as  the  snow,  and  from  some  new 


THE  DAY  BEFORE   CHRISTMAS.  l6l 

breed  of  sheep  surely ;  for  the  wool  is  longer 
and  silkier  than  ever  I  saw." 

"  Agnes  Bulteel !  "  cried  Charlotte.  "  O 
Sophia !  where  are  her  last  letters  ?  I  am  sure 
father  would  like  to  hear  about  Joe  and  the 
jolly-jist." 

"Joe  Bulteel  is  no  fool,"  said  the  squire 
warmly.  "  It  is  the  way  around  here  to  laugh 
a  bit  at  Joe  ;  but  Joe  aims  to  do  right,  and  he  is 
a  very  spirity  lad.  What  are  you  and  Sophia 
laughing  at  ?  Eh  ?  What  ? " 

"  Get  the  letters,  Sophia.  Julius  and  Harry 
will  enjoy  them  I  know.  Harry  must  remem 
ber  Joe  Bulteel." 

"  Certainly.  Joe  has  carried  my  line  and 
creel  many  a  day.  Trout  couldn't  fool  Joe. 
He  was  the  one  to  find  plovers'  eggs,  and  to 
spot  a  blaeberry  patch.  Joe  has  some  senses 
ordinary  people  do  not  have,  I  think.  I  should 
like  to  hear  about  Joe  and  the  what  ?  " 

"The  jolly-jist,  —  Professor  Sedgwick  really. 
Joe  has  been  on  the  fells  with  the  professor." 

So  they  drew  around  the  fire,  and  Sophia 
went  for  the  letters.  She  was  a  good  reader, 
and  could  give  the  county  peculiarities  with  all 
their  quaint  variations  of  mood  and  temper 


162  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

and  accent.  She  was  quite  aware  that  the 
reading  would  exhibit  her  in  an  entirely  new 
rdle  to  Julius,  and  she  entered  upon  the  task 
with  all  the  confidence  and  enthusiasm  which 
insured  the  entertainment.  And  as  both  Pro 
fessor  Sedgwick  and  Joe  Bulteel  were  well 
known  to  the  squire  and  Harry,  they  entered 
into  the  joke  also  with  all  their  hearts;  and 
one  peal  of  laughter  followed  another,  as  the 
squire's  comments  made  many  a  distinct  addi 
tion  to  the  unconscious  humor  of  the  letters. 

At  that  point  of  the  story  where  Joe  had  tri 
umphantly  pocketed  his  last  five  shillings,  and 
gone  home  reflecting  on  what  a  "famous  job  it 
would  be  to  sell  all  the  stones  on  their  fell  at 
five  shillings  a  little  bagful,"  Mrs.  Sandal  en 
tered.  A  servant  followed  with  spiced  wine 
and  dainty  bits  of  cake  and  pastry ;  and  then, 
after  a  merry  interval  of  comment  and  refresh 
ment,  Sophia  resumed  the  narrative. 

All  this  happened  at  the  end  of  May,  Miss  Sandal ; 
and  one  day  last  August  father  went  down  Lorton  way, 
and  it  was  gayly  late  when  he  got  home.  As  he  was  sit 
ting  on  his  own  side  the  fire,  trying  to  loose  the  buttons 
of  his  spats,  he  said  to  Joe,  "I  called  at  Skeal-Hill  on 
my  road  home."  Mother  was  knitting  at  her  side  of  the 


THE  DAY  BEFORE   CHRISTMAS.  163 

hearth.  She  hadn't  opened  her  mouth  since  father  came 
home ;  nay,  she  hadn't  so  much  as  looked  at  him  after 
the  one  hard  glower  that  she  gave  him  at  first;  but  when 
he  said  he'd  been  at  Skeal-Hill,  she  gave  a  grunt,  and 
said,  as  if  she  spoke  to  nobody  but  herself,  "  Ay,  a  blind 
body  might  see  that."  —  "I  was  speaking  to  Joe,"  said 
father.  "Joe,"  said  he  again,  "I  was  at  Skeal-Hill,"  — 
mother  gave  another  grunt  then,  —  "and  they  told  me 
that  thy  old  friend  the  jolly-jist  is  back  again.  I  think 
thou  had  better  step  down,  and  see  if  he  wants  to  buy 
any  more  broken  stones ;  old  Abraham  has  a  fine  heap 
or  two  lying  aside  Kirgat."  Joe  thought  he  had  done 
many  a  dafter  thing  than  take  father  at  his  word,  whether 
he  meant  it  or  not ;  and  so  thought,  so  done,  for  next 
morning  he  took  himself  off  to  Skeal-Hill. 

When  he  got  there,  and  asked  if  the  jolly-jist  was 
stirring  yet,  one  servant  snorted,  and  another  grunted, 
till  Joe  got  rather  maddish  ;  but  at  last  one  of  them  skip 
jacks  of  fellows,  that  wear  a  little  jacket  like  a  lass's 
bedgown,  said  he  would  see.  He  came  back  laughing, 
and  said,  "  Come  this  way,  Joe."  Well,  our  Joe  followed 
him  till  he  stopped  before  a  room  door ;  and  he  gave  a 
little  knock,  and  then  opened  it,  and  says  he,  "Joe,  sir." 
Joe  wasn't  going  to  stand  that ;  and  he  said,  '  Joe,  sir, ' 
he'll  ken  its  'Joe,  sir,'  as  soon  as  he  sees  the  face  of  me. 
And  get  out  with  thy  'Joe,  sir,'  or  I'll  make  thee  laugh 
at  the  wrong  side  of  that  ugly  face  of  thine."  With  that 
the  fellow  skipped  out  of  our  Joe's  way  gayly  sharp,  and 
Joe  stepped  quietly  into  the  room. 

There  the  little  old  gentleman  was  sitting  at  a  table 


164  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

writing,  —  gray  hair,  spectacles,  white  neck-cloth,  black 
clothes,  — just  as  if  he  had  never  either  doffed  or  donned 
himself  since  he  went  away.  But  before  Joe  could  put 
out  his  hand,  or  say  a  civil  word  to  him,  he  glinted  up  at 
Joe  through  his  spectacles  very  fierce  like,  and  grunted 
out  something  about  wondering  how  Joe  durst  show  his 
!  face  again.  Well,  that  put  the  cap  on  all  for  poor  Joe. 
He  had  thought  over  what  father  said,  and  hoit>  he  said  it, 
on  his  road  down  till  he  found  himself  getting  rather  mad 
about  it ;  and  the  way  they  all  snorted  and  laughed  when 
became  to  Skeal-Hill  made  him  madder;  and  that  bed 
gown  fellow,  with  his  "Joe,  sir,"  made  him  madder  than 
ever;  but  when  the  old  jolly-jist  —  that  he  thought  would 
be  so  fain  to  see  him,  if  it  was  only  for  the  sake  of  their 
sprogue  on  the  fells  together  —  when  he  wondered  "how 
Joe  durst  show  his  face  there,"  it  set  Joe  rantin'  mad,  and 
he  did  make  a  burst. 

At  this  point  the  squire  was  laughing  so  nois 
ily  that  Sophia  had  to  stop ;  and  his  hearty  ha, 
ha,  ha  !  was  so  contagious,  that  Harry  and  Ju 
lius  and  Charlotte,  and  even  Mrs.  Sandal,  echoed 
it  in  a  variety  of  merry  peals.  Sophia  was 
calmer.  She  sat  by  the  lamp,  pleasantly  con 
scious  of  the  amusement  she  was  giving ;  and, 
considering  that  she  had  already  laughed  the 
circumstance  out  in  her  room,  quite  as  well 
entertained  as  any  of  the  party.  In  a  few  min 
utes  the  squire  recovered  himself.  "  Let  us  have 


THE  DAY  BEFORE   CHRISTMAS.         -165 

the  rest  now,  Sophia.     I'd  have  given  a  gold 
guinea  to  have  heard  Joe's  'burst.'" 

"  Show  my  face  ?  "  said  Joe ;  "  and  what  should  I  show, 
then?  If  it  comes  to  showing  faces,  I've  a  better  face  to 
show  than  ever  belonged  to  one  of  your  breed,  if  the  rest 
of  them  are  aught  like  the  sample  they  have  sent  us. 
But  if  you  must  know,"  said  Joe,  "  I  come  of  a  stock  that 
never  would  be  frightened  to  show  their  face  to  a  king, 
let  alone  an  old  noodles  that  calls  himself  a  jolly-jist. 
And  I  defy  the  face  of  clay,"  said  Joe,  "to  show  that 
any  of  us  ever  did  aught  he  need  to  be  ashamed  of, 
wherever  we  show  our  faces.  Dare  to  show  my  face, 
eh  ?  "  said  Joe  again,  "  My  song !  but  this  is  a  bonnie  wel 
come  to  give  a  fellow  that  has  come  so  far  to  see  you 
such  a  hot  morning."  Joe  said  a  deal  more  of  the  same 
make ;  and  all  the  time  he  was  saying  it,  the  old  man  laid 
himself  back  in  his  great  chair,  and  kept  twiddling  his 
thumbs,  and  glancing  up  at  Joe  with  a  half-smirk  on  his 
face,  as  if  he  had  got  something  very  funny  before  him. 

"Joe  is  like  all  these  shepherd  lads,"  said  the 
squire,  "as  independent  as  never  was.  They 
are  a  manly  race,  but  the  Bulteels  all  come  of 
a  good  kind." 

Julius  laughed  scornfully,  but  the  squire  took 
him  up  very  short.  "You  need  not  laugh, 
nephew.  It  is  as  I  say.  The  Bulteels  are  as 
good  stock  as  the  Sandals  ;  a  fine  old  family, 


l66  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

and,  like  the  Sandals,  at  home  here  when  the 
Conqueror  came.  Joe  would  do  the  right  things 
I'll  be  bound.  Let  us  hear  if  he  didn't,  Sophia."" 

After  a  while  Joe  stopped,  for  he  had  run  himself  very 
near  short  6f  wind ;  and  he  began  rather  to  think  shame 
of  shouting  and  bellering  so  at  an  old  man,  and  him  as 
whisht  as  a  trout  through  it  all.  And  when  Joe  pulled  in,. 
he  only  said,  as  quietly  as  ever  was,  that  Joe  was  a  "nat 
ural  curiosity." 

Joe  didn't  know  very  well  what  this  meant;  but  he 
thought  it  was  sauce,  and  it  had  like  to  have  set  him  off 
again ;  but  he  beat  himself  down  as  well  as  he  could,  and 
he  said,  "  Have  you  any  thing  against  me?  If  you  have, 
speak  it  out  like  a  man ;  and  don't  sit  there  twiddling 
your  thumbs,  and  calling  folks  out  of  their  names  in  this 
road."  Then  it  came  out  plain  enough.  All  this  ill- 
nature,  Miss  Sandal,  was  just  because  poor  Joe  hadn't 
brought  him  the  same  stones  as  he  had  gathered  on  the 
fells ;  and  he  said  that  changing  them  was  either  a  very 
dirty  trick,  or  a  very  clumsy  joke. 

"Trick,"  said  Joe.  "Joke,  did  you  say?  It  was 
ratherly  past  a  joke  to  expect  me  to  carry  a  load  of  broken 
stones  all  the  way  here,  when  there  was  plenty  on  the 
spot.  I'm  not  such  a  fool  as  you've  taken  me  for,"  said 
Joe.  The  jolly-jist  took  off  his  spectacles,  and  glowered 
at  Joe  without  them.  Then  he  put  them  on  again,  and 
glowered  at  Joe  with  them ;  and  then  he  laughed,  and 
asked  Joe,  if  he  thought  there  could  be  no  difference  in 
stones.  "  Why  !  "  answered  Joe,  "  you  hardly  have  the 


THE  DAY  BEFORE   CHRISTMAS.  1 67 

face  to  tell  me  that  one  bag  of  stones  isn't  as  good  as 
another  bag  of  stones ;  and  surely  to  man  you'll  never 
be  so  conceited  as  to  say  that  you  can  break  stones  bet- 
ber  than  old  Abraham  Atchisson,  who  breaks  them  for 
his  bread,  and  breaks  them  all  day  long  and  everyday." 

With  that  the  old  man  laughed  again,  and  told  Joe 
to  sit  down;  and  then  he  asked  him  what  he  thought 
made  him  take  so  much  trouble  seeking  bits  of  stone  on 
the  fells,  if  he  could  get  what  he  wanted  on  the  road 
side.  "  Well,"  Joe  said,  "  if  I  must  tell  you  the  truth, 
I  thought  you  were  rather  soft  in  the  head ;  but  it  made 
no  matter  what  I  thought,  so  long  as  you  paid  me  so  well 
for  going  with  you."  As  Joe  said  this,  it  came  into  his 
head  that  it  was  better  to  flatter  a  fool  than  to  fight  him ; 
and  after  all,  that  there  might  be  something  in  the  old 
man  liking  stones  of  his  own  breaking  better  than  those 
of  other  folks'  breaking.  We  all  think  the  most  of  what 
we  have  had  a  hand  in  ourselves,  don't  we  Miss  San 
dal?  It's  nothing  but  natural.  And  as  soon  as  this  run 
through  Joe's  head,  he  found  himself  getting  middling 
sorry  for  the  old  man ;  and  he  said,  "  What  will  you  give 
me  to  get  you  your  own  bits  of  stones  back  again  ?  " 

He  cocked  up  his  ears  at  that,  and  asked  if  his  "spe- 
ciments,"  as  he  called  them,  were  safe.  "  Ay,"  said  Joe, 
"  they  are  safe  enough.  Nobody  hereabout  thinks  a 
little  lot  of  stones  worth  meddling  with,  so  long  as  they 
don't  lie  in  their  road."  With  that  the  jolly-jist  jumped 
up,  and  said  Joe  must  have  something  to  eat  and  drink. 
Then  Joe  thought  to  himself,  "  Come,  come,  we  are  get 
ting  back  to  our  own  menseful  way  again."  But  he  would 


1 68          THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

not  stir  a  peg  till  he  heard  what  he  was  to  have  for 
getting  the  stones  again  ;  for  Joe  knew  he  would  never 
hear  the  last  of  it,  if  he  came  home  empty-handed.  They 
made  it  all  right  very  soon,  however;  and  the  old  man 
went  up-stairs,  and  brought  down  the  two  leather  bags, 
and  gave  them  to  Joe  to  carry,  as  if  nothing  had  hap 
pened  ;  and  off  they  started,  very  like  as  they  did  "before. 

The  Skeal-Hill  folk  all  gathered  together  about  the 
door  to  look  after  them,  as  if  they  had  been  a  show;  but 
they  neither  of  them  minded  for  that,  but  walked  away  as 
thick  as  inkle-weavers  till  they  got  to  the  foot  of  our 
great  meadow,  where  the  stones  were  all  lying  just  as 
Joe  had  turned  them  out  of  the  bags,  only  rather  grown 
over  with  grass.  And  as  Joe  picked  them  up  one  by 
one,  and  handed  them  to  the  old  jolly-jist,  it  did  Joe's 
heart  good  to  see  how  pleased  he  looked.  He  wiped 
them  on  his  coat-cuff,  and  wet  them,  and  glowered  at 
them  through  his  spectacles,  as  if  they  were  something 
good  to  eat,  and  he  was  very  hungry;  and  then  he  packed 
them  away  into  the  bags  till  they  were  both  chock  full 
again. 

Well,  the  bargain  was,  that  Joe  should  carry  them 
back  to  Skeal-Hill;  so  back  they  put,  the  jolly-jist  watch 
ing  his  bags  all  the  way,  as  if  they  were  full  of  golden 
guineas,  and  our  Joe  a  thief.  When  they  got  there,  he 
made  Joe  take  them  right  into  the  parlor ;  and  the  first 
thing  he  did  was  to  call  for  some  red  wax  and  a  light, 
and  he  clapped  a  great  splatch  of  a  seal  on  either  bag ; 
and  then  he  looked  at  Joe,  and  gave  a  little  grunt  of  a 
laugh,  and  a  smartish  wag  of  the  head,  as  much  as  to 


THE  DAY  BEFORE   CHRISTMAS.  169 

say,  "  Do  it  again,  Joe,  if  you  can."  But  after  that  he 
said,  "  Here,  Joe,  is  five  shillings  for  restoring  my  speci- 
ments,  and  here  is  another  five  shillings  for  showing  me 
a  speciment  of  human  nature  that  I  did  not  believe  in 
until  this  day." x 

"That  is  good,"  cried  the  squire,  clapping  his 
knee  emphatically.  "  It  was  like  the  professor, 
and  it  was  like  Joe  Bulteel.  The  story  does 
them  both  credit.  I  am  glad  I  heard  it.  Alice, 
fill  our  glasses  again."  Then  he  stood  up,  and 
looked  around  with  a  smile. 

"  God's  blessing  on  this  house,  and  on  all 
beneath  its  roof-tree ! 

"Wife  and  children,  a  merry  Christmas  to 
you ! 

"Friends  and  serving  hands,  a  merry 
Christmas  to  you  !  " 

1  This  story  is  told  of  Professor  Sedgwick  in  broad  patois  by 
Alexander  Craig  Gibson,  F.S.A. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

WOOING   AND    WEDDING. 

"She  was  made  for  him,  —  a  special  providence  in  his  behalf." 

"Like  to  like,  — and  yet  love  may  be  dear  bought." 

"  In  time  comes  she  whom  Fate  sends." 

TTNTIL  after  Twelfth  Night  the  Christmas 
^  festivities  were  continued  ;  but  if  the 
truth  had  been  admitted,  the  cumbrous  cere 
monials,  the  excessive  eating  and  visiting, 
would  have  been  pronounced  by  every  one  very 
tiresome.  Julius  found  it  particularly  so,  for 
the  festival  had  no  roots  in  his  boyhood's  heart ; 
and  he  did  not  include  it  in  his  dreams  of 
pre-existence. 

"  It  is  such  semblance  of  good  fellowship, 
such  a  wearisome  pretence  of  good  wishes 
that  mean  nothing,"  he  said  one  day.  "  What 
value  is  there  in  such  talk  ? " 

"  Well,"  answered  the  squire,  "  it  isn't  a  bad 

thing  for  some  of  us  to  feel  obliged  once  in  a 

170 


WOOING  AND    WEDDING.  I /I 

twelve  months  to  be  good-natured,  and  give 
our  neighbors  a  kind  wish.  There  are  them 
that  never  do  it  except  at  Christmas.  Eh  ? 
What  ?  " 

"  Such  wishes  mean  nothing." 

"Nay,  now,  there  is  no  need  to  think  that 
kind  words  are  false  words.  There  is  a  deal  of 
good  sometimes  in  a  mouthful  of  words.  Eh  ? 
What  ? " 

"  And  yet,  sir,  as  the  queen  of  the  crocodiles 
remarked,  '  Words  mend  none  of  the  eggs  that 
are  broken.' " 

"  I  know  nothing  about  the  queen  of  the  croc 
odiles.  But  if  you  don't  believe  in  words, 
Julius,  it  is  quite  allowable  at  Christmas  time 
to  put  your  good  words  into  any  substantial 
form  you  like.  Nobody  will  doubt  a  good  wish 
that  is  father  to  a  handsome  gift ;  so,  if  you 
don't  believe  in  good  words,  you  have  a  very 
reliable  substitute  in  good  deeds.  I  saw  how 
you  looked  when  I  said  '  A  merry  Christmas ' 
to  old  Simon  Gills,  and  you  had  to  say  the 
words  after  me.  Very  well ;  send  old  Simon  a 
new  plaid  or  a  pound  of  tobacco,  and  he'll  be 
lieve  in  your  wish,  and  you'll  believe  in  your 
self.  Eh  ?  What  ? " 


1/2  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

The  days  were  full  of  such  strained  conver 
sations  on  various  topics.  Harry  could  say 
nothing  which  Julius  did  not  politely  challenge 
by  some  doubtful  inquiry.  Julius  felt  in  every 
word  and  action  of  Harry's  the  authority  of 
the  heir,  and  the  forbearance  of  a  host  tolerant 
to  a  guest.  He  complained  bitterly  to  Sophia 
of  the  position  in  which  he  was  constantly  put. 
"Your  father  and  brother  have  been  examining 
timber,  and  looking  at  the  out-houses  this  morn 
ing,  and  I  understand  they  were  discussing 
the  building  of  a  conservatory  for  Charlotte ; 
but  I  was  left  out  of  the  conversation  entirely. 
Is  it  fair,  Sophia  ?  You  and  I  are  the  next 
heirs,  and  justvas  likely  to  inherit  as  Harry. 
More  so,  I  may  say,  for  a  soldier's  life  is 
already  sold,  and  Harry  is  reckless  and  dissi 
pated  as  well.  I  think  I  ought  to  have  been 
consulted.  I  should  not  be  in  favor  of  thin 
ning  the  timber.  I  dare  say  it  is  done  to  pay 
Harry's  bills ;  and  thus,  you  see,  it  may  really 
be  we  who  are  made  to  suffer.  I  don't  think 
your  father  likes  our  marriage,  dear  one." 
"  But  he  gave  his  consent,  beloved." 
"  I  was  very  dissatisfied  with  his  way  of  do 
ing  it.  He  might  as  well  have  said,  '  If  it  has 


WOOING  AND    WEDDING. 

to  be,  it  has  to  be  ;  and  there  is  no  use  fretting 
about  it.'  I  may  be  wrong,  but  that  is  the  im 
pression  his  consent  left  on  my  mind.  And  he 
was  quite  unreasonable  when  I  alluded  to 
money  matters.  I  would  not  have  believed 
that  your  father  was  capable  of  being  so  dis 
agreeably  haughty.  Of  course,  I  expected  him 
to  say  something  about  our  rights,  failing 
Harry's,  and  he  treated  them  as  if  they  did  not 
exist.  Even  when  I  introduced  them  in  the 
most  delicate  way,  he  was  what  I  call  down 
right  rude.  'Julius,'  he  said,  'I  will  not  discuss 
any  future  that  pre-supposes  Harry's  death.' ' 

"  Father's  sun  rises  and  sets  in  Harry,  and  it 
was  like  him  to  speak  that  way ;  he  meant 
nothing  against  us.  Father  would  always  do 
right.  What  I  feel  most  is  the  refusal  to  give 
us  our  own  apartments  in  Seat-Sandal.  We  do 
not  want  to  live  here  all  the  time,  but  we  ought 
to  be  able  to  feel  that  we  have  a  certain  home 
here." 

"  Yes,  indeed.  It  is  very  important  in  my 
eyes  to  keep  a  footing  in  the  house.  Posses 
sion  is  a  kind  of  right.  But  never  mind, 
Sophia.  I  have  always  had  an  impression  that 
this  was  my  home.  The  first  moment  I 


THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

crossed  the  threshold  I  felt  it.  All  its  rooms 
were  familiar  to  me.  People  do  not  have  such 
presentiments  for  nothing." 

There  is  a  class  of  lovers  who  find  their 
supremest  pleasure  in  isolating  themselves ; 
who  consider  their  own  affairs  an  oasis  of  de 
light,  and  make  it  desert  all  around  them. 
Julius  and  Sophia  belonged  to  it.  They  really 
enjoyed  the  idea  that  they  were  being  badly 
used.  They  talked  over  the  squire's  injustice, 
Mrs.  Sandal's  indifference  to  every  one  but 
Harry,  and  Charlotte's  envy,  until  they  had 
persuaded  themselves  that  they  were  the  only 
respectable  and  intelligent  members  of  the 
family.  Naturally  Sophia's  nature  deteriorated 
under  this  isolating  process.  She  grew  secre 
tive  and  suspicious.  Her  love-affairs  assumed 
a  proportion  which  put  her  in  false  relations  to 
all  the  rest  of  the  world. 

It  was  unfortunate  that  they  had  come  to 
a  crisis  during  Harry's  visit,  for  of  course 
Harry  occupied  a  large  share  of  every  one's 
interest.  The  squire  took  the  opportunity  to 
talk  over  the  affairs  of  the  estate  with  him,  and 
this  was  not  a  kind  of  conversation  they  felt 
inclined  to  make  sreneral.  It  took  them  long 


WOOING  AND    WEDDING. 

solitary  walks  to  the  different  "folds,"  and 
several  times  as  far  as  Kendal  together.  "  Am 
I  one  of  the  family,  or  am  I  not  ? "  Julius 
would  ask  Sophia  on  such  occasions ;  and  then 
the  discussion  of  this  question  separated  them 
from  it,  sometimes  for  hours  at  a  time. 

Mrs.  Sandal  hardly  perceived  the  growth  of 
this  domestic  antagonism.  When  Harry  was 
at  Seat-Sandal,  she  lived  and  moved  and  had 
her  being  in  Harry.  His  food  and  drink,  and 
the  multitude  of  his  small  comforts  ;  his  friends 
and  amusements ;  the  renovation  of  his  linen 
and  hosiery ;  his  hopes  and  fears,  and  his 
promotion  or  marriage,  were  enough  to  fill  the 
mother's  heart.  She  was  by  no  means  ob 
livious  of  Sophia's  new  interests,  she  only 
thought  that  they  could  be  put  aside  until 
Harry's  short  visit  was  over;  and  Charlotte's 
sympathies  were  also  with  Harry.  "Julius 
and  Sophia  do  not  want  them,  mother,"  she 
said,  "  they  are  sufficient  unto  themselves.  If 
I  enter  a  room  pre-occupied  by  them,  Sophia 
sits  silent  over  her  work,  with  a  look  of  injury 
on  her  face  ;  and  Julius  walks  about,  and  kicks 
the  stools  out  of  his  way,  and  simply  '  looks ' 
me  out  of  their  presence." 


1/6  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

After  such  an  expulsion  one  morning,  she 
put  on  her  bonnet  and  mantle,  and  went  into 
the  park.  She  was  hot  and  trembling  with 
anger,  and  her  eyes  were  misty  with  tears.  In 
the  main  walk  she  met  Harry.  He  was  smok 
ing,  and  pacing  slowly  up  and  down  under  the 
bare  branches  of  the  oaks.  For  a  moment  he 
also  seemed  annoyed  at  her  intrusion  on  his 
solitude ;  but  the  next  one  he  had  tucked 
her  arm  through  his  own,  and  was  looking 
with  brotherly  sympathy  into  her  flushed  and 
troubled  face.  This  morning  Charlotte  felt  it 
to  be  a  great  comfort  to  complain  to  him, 
to  even  cry  a  little  over  the  breaking  of  the 
family  bond,  and  the  loss  of  her  sister's  affec 
tion. 

"  I  have  always  been  so  proud  of  Sophia, 
always  given  up  to  her  in  every  thing.  When 
grandmother  showed  me  the  sapphire  necklace, 
and  said  she  was  going  to  leave  it  to  me 
because  she  loved  me  best,  I  begged  her  not 
to  slight  Sophia  in  such  a  way  as  that,  — 
Sophia  being  the  elder,  you  know,  Harry.  I 
cried  about  it  until  she  was  almost  angry  with 
me.  Julius  offered  his  hand  to  me  first ;  and 
though  I  claim  no  merit  for  giving  up  what  I 


WOOING  AND    WEDDING.  1 77 

do  not  want,  yet,  all  the  same,  if  I  had  wanted 
him  I  should  have  refused,  because  I  saw  that 
Sophia  had  set  her  heart  upon  him.  I  should 
indeed,  Harry." 

"  I  believe  you  would,  Charlotte." 

"And  somehow  Julius  manages  to  give  me 
the  feeling  that  I  am  only  in  Seat-Sandal  on 
his  tolerance.  Many  a  time  a  day  I  have  to 
tell  myself  that  father  is  still  alive,  and  that  I 
have  a  right  in  my  own  home.  I  do  not  know 
how  he  manages  to  make  me  feel  so." 

"  In  the  same  way  that  he  conveys  to  me 
the  impression  that  I  shall  never  be  squire  of 
Sandal-Side.  He  has  doomed  me  to  death  in 
his  own  mind  ;  and  I  believe  if  I  had  to  live 
with  him,  I  should  feel  constrained  to  go  and 
shoot  myself." 

"  I  would  come  home,  and  get  married, 
Harry.  There  will  be  room  enough  and  wel 
come  enough  for  your  wife  in  Seat-Sandal, 
especially  if  she  be  Emily." 

"She  will  not  be  Emily;  for  I  love  some 
one  else  far  away  better, — millions  of  times 
better  than  I  love  Emily." 

"I  am  so  glad,  Harry.  Have  you  told 
father?" 


1/8  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

"  Not  yet.  I  do  not  think  he  will  be  glad, 
Charlotte." 

"  But  why  ? " 

"  There  are  many  reasons." 

"  Such  as  ? " 

"  She  is  poor." 

"  Oh !  that  is  bad,  Harry ;  because  I  know 
that  we  are  not  rich.  But  she  is  not  your 
inferior?  I  mean  she  is  not  uneducated  or 
unladylike  ? 

"  She  is  highly  educated,  and  in  all  Eng 
land  there  is  not  a  more  perfect  lady." 

"Then  I  can  see  no  reason  to  think  father 
will  not  be  pleased.  I  am  sure,  Harry,  that  I 
shall  love  your  wife.  Oh,  yes  !  I  shall  love  her 
very  dearly." 

Then  Harry  pressed  her  arm  close  to  his 
side,  and  looked  lovingly  down  into  her  bright, 
earnest  face.  There  was  no  need  of  speech. 
In  a  glance  their  souls  touched  each  other. 

"And  so  he  asked  you  first,  eh,  Charley  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  And  you  would  not  have  him  ?  What  for 
Charley?" 

"I  did  not  like  Julius,  and  I  did  like  some 
one  else." 


WOOING  AND    WEDDING. 

"  Oh  !  Oh !     Who  is  the  some  one  else  ? " 

"  Guess,  Harry.  He  is  very  like  you,  very  : 
fair  and  tall,  with  clear,  candid,  happy  blue 
eyes ;  and  brown  hair  curling  close  over  his 
head.  In  the  folds  and  in  the  fields  he  is  a 
master.  His  heart  is  gentle  to  all,  and  full  of 
love  for  me.  He  has  spirit,  dint,1  ambition, 
enterprise ;  and  can  work  twenty  hours  out  of 
the  twenty-four  to  carry  out  his  own  plans. 
He  is  a  right  good  fellow,  Harry." 

"A  North-country  man?" 

"  Certainly.  Do  you  think  I  would  marry  a 
stranger  ? " 

"Cumberland  born?" 

"Who  else?" 

"  Then  it  is  Steve  Latrigg,  eh  ?  Well,  Char 
ley,  you  might  go  farther,  and  fare  worse.  I 
don't  think  he  is  worthy  of  you." 

"Oh,  but  I  do!" 

"Very  few  men  are  worthy  of  you." 

"Only  Steve.  I  want  you  to  like  Steve, 
Harry." 

"  Certainly.  Seat-Sandal  folks  and  Up-Hill 
folks  are  always  thick  friends.  And  Steve  and 
I  were  boy  chums.  He  is  a  fine  fellow,  and  no 

1  Dint,  energy. 


ISO  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

mistake.  I  am  glad  he  is  to  be  my  brother. 
I  asked  mother  about  him ;  and  she  said  he  was 
in  Yorkshire,  learning  how  to  spin  and  weave 
wool  —  a  queer  thing,  Charley." 

"Not  at  all.  He  may  just  as  well  spin  his 
own  fleeces  as  sell  them  to  Yorkshiremen  to 
:spin."  Then  they  talked  awhile  of  Stephen's 
plans,  and  Harry  appeared  to  be  much  im 
pressed  with  them.  "It  is  a  pity  father  does 
not  join  him,  Charley,"  he  said.  "  Every  one 
is  doing  something  of  the  kind  now.  Land  and 
sheep  do  not  make  money  fast  enough  for  the 
wants  of  our  present  life.  The  income  of  the 
estate  is  no  larger  than  it  was  in  grandfather's 
time ;  but  the  expenses  are  much  greater, 
although  we  do  not  keep  up  the  same  extrava 
gant  style.  I  need  money,  too,  need  it  very 
much ;  but  I  see  plainly  that  father  has  none  to 
spare.  Julius  will  press  him  very  close." 

"What  has  Julius  to  do  with  father's 
money  ? " 

"Father  must,  in  honor,  pay  Sophia's  por 
tion.  Unfortunately,  when  the  fellow  was  here 
last,  father  told  him  that  he  had  put  away  from 
the  estate  one  hundred  pounds  a  year  for  each 
of  his  girls.  Under  this  promise,  Sophia's 


WOOING  AND    WEDDING.  l8l 

right  with  interest  will  be  near  three  thousand 
pounds,  exclusive  of  her  share  in  the  money 
grandmother  left  you.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that 
I  have  had  something  to  do  with  making  it 
hard  for  father  to  meet  these  obligations.  And 
Julius  wants  the  money  paid  at  the  marriage. 
Father,  too,  feels  very  much  as  I  feel,  and 
would  rather  throw  it  into  the  sea  than  give  it 
to  him  ;  only  noblesse  oblige." 

The  subject  evidently  irritated  Harry  beyond 
endurance,  and  he  suddenly  changed  it  by  taking 
from  his  pocket  an  ivory  miniature.  He  gave 
it  to  Charlotte,  and  watched  her  face  with  a 
glow  of  pleasant  expectation.  "  Why,  Harry ! " 
she  cried,  "does  so  lovely  a  woman  really 
exist  ? " 

He  nodded  happily,  and  answered  in  a  voice 
full  of  emotion,  "And  she  loves  me." 

"  It  is  the  countenance  of  an  angel." 

"And  she  loves  me.  I  am  not  worthy  to 
touch  the  hem  of  her  garment,  Charley,  but 
she  loves  me."  Then  Charlotte  lifted  the  pic 
tured  face  to  her  lips.  Their  confidence  was 
complete ;  and  they  did  not  think  it  necessary 
to  talk  it  over,  or  to  exact  promises  of  secrecy 
from  each  other. 


i82  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

The  next  day  Harry  returned  to  his  regi 
ment,  and  Sophia's  affairs  began  to  receive  the 
attention  which  their  important  crisis  de 
manded.  In  those  days  it  was  customary  for 
girls  to  make  their  own  wedding  outfit,  and 
there  was  no  sewing-machine  to  help  them. 
"Mine  is  the  first  marriage  in  the  family," 
Sophia  said,  "  and  I  think  there  ought  to  be  a 
great  deal  of  interest  felt  in  it."  And  there 
was.  Grandmother  Sandal's  awmries  were 
opened  for  old  laces  and  fine  cambric,  and  petti 
coats  and  spencers  of  silks  wonderful  in  qual 
ity  and  color,  and  guiltless  of  any  admixture  of 
less  precious  material.  There  were  whole  sets 
of  many  garments  to  make,  and  tucking  and 
frilling  and  stitching  were  then  slow  processes. 
Agnes  Bulteel  came  to  assist ;  but  the  work 
promised  to  be  so  tedious,  that  the  marriage-day 
was  postponed  until  July. 

In  the  mean  time,  Julius  spent  his  time  be 
tween  Oxford  and  Sandal-Side.  Every  visit 
was  distinguished  by  some  rich  or  rare  gift  to 
his  bride,  and  he  always  felt  a  pleasure  in  as 
suring  himself  that  Charlotte  was  consumed 
with  envy  and  regret.  He  was  very  much  in 
love  with  Sophia,  and  quite  glad  she  was  going 


WOOING  AND    WEDDING.  183 

to  marry  him  ;  and  yet  he  dearly  liked  to  think 
that  he  made  Charlotte  sorry  for  her  rejection 
of  his  love,  and  wistfully  anxious  for  the  rings 
and  bracelets  that  were  the  portion  of  his  be 
trothed.  Sophia  soon  found  out  that  this  idea 
flattered  and  pleased  him,  and  it  gave  her  nei 
ther  shame  nor  regret  to  indorse  it.  She  loved 
no  one  but  Julius,  and  she  made  a  kind  of 
merit  in  giving  up  every  one  for  him.  The 
sentiment  sounded  rather  well ;  but  it  was 
really  an  intense  selfishness,  wearing  the  mask 
of  unselfishness.  She  did  not  reflect  that  the 
daily  love  and  duty  due  to  others  cannot  be 
;sinlessly  withheld,  or  given  to  some  object  of 
our  own  particular  choice,  or  that  such  a  self 
ish  idolatry  is  a  domestic  crime. 

It  was  a  very  unhappy  time  to  Charlotte. 
Her  mother  was  weary  with  many  unusual 
cares,  her  father  more  silent  and  depressed 
than  she  had  ever  before  seen  him.  The 
sunny  serenity  of  her  happy  home  was  dis 
turbed  by  a  multitude  of  new  elements,  for  an 
•atmosphere  of  constant  expectation  gave  a 
~estless  tone  to  its  usual  placid  routine.  And 
through  all  and  below  all,  there  was  that  feel 
ing  of  money  perplexity,  which,  where  it  ex- 


184  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

ists,  is  no  more  to  be  hid  than  the  subtle  odor 
of  musk,  present  though  unseen. 

This  year  the  white  winter  appeared  to  Char 
lotte  interminable  in  length.  The  days  in 
which  it  was  impossible  to  go  out,  full  of 
Sophia's  sewing  and  little  worries  and  ostenta 
tions  ;  the  windy,  tempestuous  nights,  that 
swept  the  gathering  drifts  away  ;  the  cloudless 
moonlight  nights,  full  of  that  awful,  breathless 
quiet  that  broods  in  land-locked  dales,  —  all  of 
them,  and  all  of  Nature's  moods,  had  become 
inexpressibly,  monotonously  wearisome  before 
the  change  came.  But  one  morning  at  the  end 
of  March,  there  was  a  great  west  wind  charged 
with  heavy  rains,  and  in  a  few  hours  the  snow 
on  all  the  fells  had  been  turned  into  rushing 
floods,  that  came  roaring  down  from  every  side- 

into  the  valley. 

" '  Oh,  wind ! 
If  winter  comes,  can  spring  be  far  behind  ?  ' ' 

quoted  Charlotte,  as   she   stood  watching  the 
white  cascades. 

"  It  will  be  cuckoo  time  directly  my  dear ;. 
and  the  lambs  will  be  bleating  on  the  fells,  and 
the  yellow  primroses  blowing  under  all  the 
hedges.  I  want  to  see  the  swallows  take  the 


WOOING  AND    WEDDING.  l8$ 

storm  on  their  wings  badly  this  year.  Eh  ? 
What,  Charlotte?" 

"  So  do .  I,  father.  I  never  was  so  tired  of 
the  house  before." 

"There's  a  bit  of  a  difference  lately,  I  think. 
Eh?  What?" 

Charlotte  looked  at  him  ;  there  was  no  need 
to  speak.  They  both  understood  and  felt  the 
full  misery  of  household  changes  that  are  not 
entirely  happy  ones  ;  changes  that  bring  un 
faithfulness  and  ingratitude  on  one  side,  and 
resentful,  wounded  love  on  the  other.  And 
the  worst  of  it  all  was,  that  it  might  have 
been  so  different.  Why  had  the  lovers  set 
themselves  apart  from  the  family,  had  secrets 
and  consultations  and  interests  they  refused  to 
share  ?  How  had  it  happened  that  Sophia  had 
come  to  consider  her  welfare  as  apart  from, 
and  in  opposition  to,  that  of  the  general  wel 
fare  of  Seat-Sandal  ?  And  when  this  feeling 
existed,  it  seemed  unjust  to  Charlotte  that 
they  should  still  expect  the  whole  house  and 
household  to  be  kept  in  turmoil  for  the 
furtherance  of  their  plans,  and  that  every 
one  should  be  made  to  contribute  to  their 
happiness. 


1 86  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

"After  all,  maybe  it  is  a  bit  natural,"  said 
the  squire  with  a  sad  air  of  apology.  "  I  have 
noticed  even  the  robins  get  angry  if  you  watch 
them  building  their  nests." 

"But  they,  at  least,  build  their  own  nest, 
father.  The  cock-robin  does  not  go  to  his 
parents,  and  the  hen  robin  to  her  parents,  and 
say,  'Give  us  all  the  straw  you  can,  and  put 
it  down  at  the  foot  of  our  tree ;  but  don't 
dare  to  peep  into  the  branches,  or  offer  us  any 
suggestions  about  the  nest,  or  expect  to  have 
an  opinion  about  our  housekeeping.'  Selfish- 
ness  spoils  every  thing,  father.  I  think  if  a 
rose  could  be  selfish  it  would  be  hideous." 

"  I  don't  think  a  lover  would  make  my 
Charlotte  forget  her  father  and  mother,  and 
feel  contempt  for  her  home,  and  all  in  and 
about  it  that  she  does  not  want  for  herself. 
Why,  a  stranger  would  think  that  Sophia  was 
never  loved  by  any  human  heart  before !  They 
would  think  that  she  never  had  been  happy 
before.  Nay,  then,  she  sets  more  store  by  the 
few  nick-nacks  Julius  has  given  her  than  all 
I  have  bought  her  for  twenty  years.  When 
yonder  last  bracelet  came,  she  went  on  as  if 
she  had  never  seen  aii^ht  of  the  kind  in  all 


WOOING  AND    WEDDING.  187 

her  born  days.  Yet  I  have  bought  her  one  or 
two  that  cost  more  money,  and  happen  more 
love,  than  it  did.  Eh?  What,  Charlotte?" 

There  were  two  large  tears  standing  in  his 
blue  eyes,  and  two  sprang  into  Charlotte's  to 
meet  them.  She  clasped  his  hand  tight,  and 
after  a  minute's  silence  said, — 

"  I  have  a  lover,  father ;  the  best  a  girl  ever 
had.  Has  he  made  any  difference  between  you 
and  me  ?  Only  that  I  love  you  better.  You 
are  my  first  love  ;  the  very  first  creature  I 
vemember,  father.  One  summer  day  you  had 
me  in  your  arms  in  the  garden.  I  recollect 
looking  at  you  and  knowing  you.  I  think  it 
was  at  that  moment  my  soul  found  me." 

"  It  was  on  a  summer  day,  Charlotte?  Eh? 
What  ? " 

"  And  the  garden  was  all  roses,  father ;  red 
with  roses, — roses  full  of  scent.  I  can  smell 
them  yet.  The  sunshine,  the  roses,  the  sweet 
air,  your  face,  —  I  shall  never,  never  forget 
that  moment,  father." 

"  Nor  I.  I  was  a  very  happy  man  in  those 
days,  Charlotte.  Young  and  happy,  and  full 
of  hope.  I  thought  my  children  were  some 
new  make  of  children.  I  could  not  have 


I  88  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SID E. 

believed  then,  that  they  would  ever  give  me 
a  heartache,  or  have  one  themselves.  And  I 
had  not  a  care.  Money  was  very  easy  with 
me  then  :  now  it  is  middling  hard  to  bring 
buckle  and  tongue  together." 

"When  Sophia  is  married,  we  can  begin 
and  save  a  little.  Mother  and  you  and  I  can 
be  happy  without  extravagances." 

"  To  be  sure,  we  can ;  but  the  trouble  is, 
my  saving  will  be  the  losing  of  all  I  have  to 
send  away.  It  is  very  hard,  Charlotte,  to  do 
right  at  both  ends.  Eh?  What?" 

After  this  conversation,  spring  came  on 
rapidly,  and  it  was  not  long  ere  Charlotte 
managed  to  reach  Up-Hill.  She  had  not  seen 
Ducie  for  several  weeks,  and  she  was  longing 
to  hear  something  of  Stephen.  "But  if  ill 
had  come,  ill  would  have  cried  out,  and  I 
would  have  heard  tell ; "  she  thought,  as  she 
picked  her  way  among  the  stones  and  debris 
of  the  winter  storms.  The  country  was  yet 
bare ;  the  trees  had  no  leaves,  no  nests,  no 
secrets ;  but  she  could  see  the  sap  running 
into  the  branches,  making  them  dark  red, 
scarlet,  or  yellow  as  rods  of  gold.  Higher  up, 
the  pines,  always  green,  took  her  into  their 


WOOING  AND    WEDDING.  189 

shade;  into  their  calm  spirit  of  unchangeable- 
ness,  their  equal  light,  their  keen  aromatic  air. 
Then  came  the  bare  fell,  and  the  raw  north 
wind,  and  the  low  gray  house,  stretching  itself 
under  the  leafless,  outspreading  limbs  of  the 
sycamores. 

In  the  valley,  there  had  been  many  wild  flow 
ers, —  tufts  of  violets  and  early  primroses, — 
and  even  at  Up  Hill  the  blackthorn's  stiff  boughs 
were  covered  with  tiny  white  buds,  and  here  and 
there  an  open  blossom.  Ducie  was  in  the 
garden  at  work;  and  as  Charlotte  crossed  the 
steps  in  its  stone  wall  she  lifted  her  head,  and 
saw  her.  Their  meeting  was  free  from  all  dem 
onstration  ;  only  a  smile,  and  a  word  or  two  of 
welcome,  and  yet  how  conscious  of  affection ! 
How  satisfied  both  women  were !  Ducie  went 
on  with  her  task,  and  Charlotte  stood  by  her 
side,  and  watched  her  drop  the  brown  seeds 
into  the  damp,  rich  earth ;  watched  her  clip 
the  box-borders,  and  loosen  the  soil  about  the 
springing  crocus  bulbs.  Here  and  there  tufts 
of  snowdrops  were  in  full  bloom,  —  white,  frail 
bells,  looking  as  if  they  had  known  only  cheer 
less  hours  and  cold  sunbeams,  and  wept  and 
shrank  and  feared  through  them. 


THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

As  they  went  into  the  house,  Ducie  gathered 
a  few ;  but  at  the  threshhold,  Charlotte  turned, 
and  saw  them  in  her  hand.  A  little  fear  and 
annoyance  came  into  her  face.  "  You  a  North- 
country  woman,  Ducie,"  she  said,  "and  yet 
going  to  bring  snowdrops  across  the  doorstone  ? 
I  would  not  have  believed  such  a  thing  of 
you.  Leave  them  outside  the  porch.  Be  said, 
now." 

"It  seems  such  a  thing  to  think  of  flowers 
that  way, — making  them  signs  of  sorrow." 

"  You  know  what  you  said  about  your  father 
and  the  plant,  —  '  Death-come-quickly.'  I  have 
heard  snowdrops  called  'flowers  from  dead- 
men's  dale.'  Look  at  them.  They  are  like 
a  shrouded  corpse.  They  keep  their  heads 
always  turned  down  to  the  grave.  It  is  ill-luck 
to  bring  them  where  there  is  life  and  love  and 
warmth.  It  will  do  you  no  harm  to  mind  me ; 
so  be  said,  Ducie.  Besides,  I  wouldn't  pull 
them  anyway.  There  was  little  Grace  Lewth- 
waite,  she  was  always  gathering  the  poor,  inno 
cent  flowers  just  to  fling  them  on  the  dusty 
road  to  be  trodden  and  trampled  to  pieces  ; 
well,  before  she  was  twelve  years  old,  she  faded 
away  too.  Perhaps  even  the  prayers  of  man- 


WOOING  AND    WEDDING.  IQI 

gled   flowers   may   be   heard   by   the    merciful 
Creator." 

11  You  do  give  me  such  turns,  Charlotte.'* 
But  who  ever  reasons  with  a  superstition  ? 
Ducie  simply  obeyed  Charlotte's  wish,  and  lai'4 
the  pallid  blooms  almost  remorsefully  bac'r 
upon  the  earth  from  which  she  had  taken  them 
A  strange  melancholy  rilled  her  heart ;  although 
the  servants  were  busy  all  around,  and  every 
where  she  heard  the  good-natured  laugh,  the 
thoughtless  whistle,  or  the  songs  of  hearts  at 
ease. 

When  she  entered  the  houseplace  she  put 
the  bright  kettle  on  the  hob,  and  took  out  her 
silver  teapot  and  her  best  cups  of  lovely  crown 
Derby.  And  as  she  moved  about  in  her  quiet, 
hospitable  way  they  began  to  talk  of  Stephen. 
"Was  he  well?" — "Yes,  he  was  well,  but 
there  were  things  that  might  be  better.  I 
thought  when  he  went  to  Bradford,"  continued 
Ducie,  "that  he  would  at  least  be  learning 
something  that  he  might  be  the  better  of  in 
the  long  end  ;  and  that  in  a  mill  he  would  over- 
get  his  notions  about  sheepskins  being  spun 
into  golden  fleeces.  But  he  doesn't  seem  to 
get  any  new  light  that  way,  and  Up-Hill  is  not 


THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

doing  well  without  him.  Fold  and  farm  are 
needing  the  master's  eye  and  hand ;  and  it  will 
be  a  poor  lambing  season  for  us,  I  think,  want 
ing  Steve.  And,  deary  me,  Charlotte,  one  word 
from  you  would  bring  him  home  !  " 

Charlotte  stooped,  and  lifted  the  tortoise-shell 
cat,  lying  on  the  rug  at  her  feet.  She  was  not 
fond  of  cats,  and  she  was  only  attentive  to  puss 
as  the  best  means  of  hiding  her  blushes.  Du- 
cie  understood  the  small,  womanly  ruse,  and 
waited  no  other  answer.  "  What  is  the  matter 
with  the  squire,  Charlotte  ?  Does  he  think  that 
Stephen  isn't  good  enough  to  marry  you  ?  I'll 
not  say  that  Latrigg  evens  Sandal  in  all  things, 
but  I  will  say  that  there  are  very  few  families 
that  can  even  Latrigg.  We  have  been  without 
reproach,  —  good  women,  honest  men ;  not  afraid 
of  any  face  of  clay,  though  it  wore  a  crown 
above  it." 

"Dear  Ducie,  there  is  no  question  at  all  of 
that.  The  trouble  arose  about  Julius  Sandal. 
Father  was  determined  that  I  or  Sophia  should 
marry  him,  and  he  was  afraid  of  Steve  stand 
ing  in  the  way  of  Julius.  As  for  myself,  I  felt 
•as  if  Julius  had  been  invited  to  Seat-Sandal 
that  he  might  make  his  choice  of  us  ;  and  I 


WOOING  AND    WEDDING.  193 

took  good  care  that  he  should  understand  from 
the  first  hour  that  I  was  not  on  his  approbation. 
I  resented  the  position  on  my  own  account,  and 
I  did  not  intend  Stephen  to  feel  that  he  was 
only  getting  a  girl  who  had  been  appraised  by 
Julius  Sandal,  and  declined." 

"You  are  a  good  girl,  Charlotte;  and  as  for 
Steve  standing  in  the  way  of  Julius  Sandal,  he 
will,  perhaps,  do  that  yet,  and  to  some  more 
purpose  than  sweet-hearting.  I  hear  tell  that 
he  is  very  rich  ;  but  Steve  is  not  poor,  —  no,  not 
by  a  good  deal.  His  grandfather  and  I  have 
been  saving  for  him  more  than  twenty  years, 
and  Steve  is  one  to  turn  his  penny  well  and 
often.  If  you  marry  Steve,  you  will  not  have 
to  study  about  money  matters." 

"  Poor  or  rich,  I  shall  marry  Steve  if  he  is 
true  to  me." 

"There  is  another  thing,  Charlotte,  a  thing 
I  talk  about  to  no  one ;  but  we  will  speak 
of  it  once  and  forever.  Have  you  heard  a 
word  about  Steve's  father  ?  My  trouble  is 
long  dead  and  buried,  but  there  are  some  that 
will  open  the  grave  itself  for  a  mouthful  of 
scandal.  What  have  you  heard  I  Don't  be 
afraid  to  speak  out." 


194          THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

"  I  heard  that  you  ran  away  with  Steve's 
father." 

"Yes,  I  did." 

"  That  your  father  and  mother  opposed  your 
marriage  very  much." 

"  Yes,  that  also  is  true." 

"That  he  was  a  handsome  lad,  called  Matt 
Pattison,  your  father's  head  shepherd." 

"  Was  that  all  ?  " 

"That  it  killed  your  mother." 

"  No,  that  is  untrue.  Mother  died  from  an 
inflammation  brought  on  by  taking  cold.  I  was 
no-ways  to  blame  for  her  death.  I  was  to 
blame  for  running  away  from  my  home  and 
duty,  and  I  took  in  full  all  the  sorrowful  wage 
I  earned.  Steve's  father  did  not  live  to  see 
his  son ;  and  when  I  heard  of  mother's  death, 
I  determined  to  go  back  to  father,  and  stay 
with  him  always  if  he  would  let  me.  I  got 
to  Sandal  village  in  the  evening,  and  stayed 
with  Nancy  Bell  all  night.  In  the  morning  I 
went  up  the  fell ;  it  was  a  wet,  cold  morning, 
with  gusts  of  wind  driving  the  showers  like  a 
solid  sheet  eastward.  We  had  a  hard  fight  up 
the  breast  of  the  mountain ;  and  the  house 
looked  bleak  and  desolate,  for  the  men  were 


WOOING  AND    WEDDING.  1 9$ 

all  in  the  barn  threshing,  and  the  women  in 
the  kitchen  at  the  butter-troughs.  I  stood 
in  the  porch  to  catch  my  breath,  and  take  my 
plaid  from  around  the  child ;  and  I  heard  father 
in  a  loud,  solemn  voice  saying  the  Collect,— 
father  always  spoke  in  that  way  when  he  was 
saying  the  Confession  or  the  Collect,  —  and  I 
knew  very  well  that  he  would  be  standing  at 
that  east  window,  with  his  prayer-book  open 
on  the  sill.  So  I  waited  until  I  heard  the 
'  Amen/  and  then  I  lifted  the  latch  and  went 
in.  He  turned  around  and  faced  me ;  and  his 
eyes  fell  at  once  upon  little  Steve,  who  was  a 
bonny  lad  then,  more  than  three  years  old.  '  I 
have  come  back  to  you,  father,'  I  said,  'I  and 
my  little  Steve.'  — '  Where  is  thy  husband  ? ' 
he  asked.  I  said,  '  He  is  in  the  grave.  I  did 
wrong,  and  I  am  sorry,  father." 

" '  Then  I  forgive  thee.'  That  was  all  he 
said.  His  eyes  were  fixed  upon  Steve,  for 
he  never  had  a  son  of  his  own  ;  and  he  held 
out  his  hands,  and  Steve  went  straight  to  him  ; 
and  he  lifted  the  boy,  and  kissed  him  again  and 
again,  and  from  that  moment  he  loved  him 
with  all  his  soul.  He  never  cast  up  to  me  the 
wrong  I  had  done  ;  and  by  and  by  I  told  him 


196          THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

all  that  had  happened  to  me,  and  we  never 
more  had  a  secret  between  us,  but  worked 
together  for  one  end ;  and  what  that  end  was, 
some  day  you  may  find  out.  I  wish  you  would 
write  a  word  or  two  to  Steve.  A  word  would 
bring  him  home,  dear." 

"But  I  cannot  write  it,  Ducie.  I  promised 
father  there  should  be  no  love-making  between 
us,  and  I  would  not  break  a  word  that  father 
trusts  in.  Besides,  Stephen  is  too  proud  and 
too  honorable  to  have  any  underhand  courting. 
When  he  can  walk  in  and  out  Seat-Sandal  in 
day-shine  and  in  dark,  and  as  every  one's 
equal,  he  will  come  to  see  me.  Until  then  we 
can  trust  each  other  and  wait." 

"  What  does  the  squire  think  of  Steve's 
plans  ?  Maybe,  now,  they  are  not  very  pleasant 
to  him.  I  remember  at  the  sheep-shearing  he 
did  not  say  very  much." 

"  He  did  not  say  very  much  because  he 
never  thought  that  Steve  was  in"  earnest. 
Father  does  not  like  changes,  and  you  know 
how  land-owners  regard  traders.  And  I'm  sure 
you  wouldn't  even  one  of  our  shepherd-lads 
with  a  man  that  minds  a  loom.  The  brave 
fellows,  travelling  the  mountain-tops  in  the 


WOOING  AArD    WEDDING.  197 

fiercest  storms  to  fold  the  sheep,  or  seek  some 
stray  or  weakly  lamb,  are  very  different  from 
the  lank,  white-faced  mannikins  all  finger-ends 
for  a  bit  of  machinery ;  aren't  they,  Ducie  ? 
And  I  would  far  rather  see  Steve  counting  his 
flocks  on  the  fells  than  his  spinning-Jennys  in 
a  mill.  Father  was  troubled  about  the  railway 
coming  to  Ambleside,  and  I  do  think  a  factory 
in  Sandal-Side  would  make  him  heart-sick." 

"Then  Steve  shall  never  build  one  while 
Sandal  lives.  Do  you  think  I  would  have  the 
squire  made  heart-sick  if  I  could  make  him 
heart-whole  ?  Not  for  all  the  woollen  yarn  in 
England.  Tell  him  Ducie  said  so.  The 
squire  and  I  are  old,  old  friends.  Why,  we 
pulled  primroses  together  in  the  very  meadow 
Steve  thought  of  building  in !  I'm  not  the 
woman  to  put  a  mill  before  a  friend,  oh,  no ! 
And  in  the  long  end  I  think  you  are  right, 
Charlotte.  A  man  had  better  work  among 
sheep  than  among  human  beings.  They  are 
a  deal  more  peaceable  and  easy  to  get  on 
with.  It  is  not  so  very  hard  for  a  shepherd  to 
be  a  good  man." 

"  You  speak  as  I  like  to  hear  you,  Ducie  ; 
but  I  must  be  going,  for  a  deal  falls  to  my 


198  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

oversight  now."  And  she  rose  quickly  from 
the  tea-table,  and  as  she  tied  on  her  bonnet, 
began  to  sing, — 

•' '  God  bless  the  sheep  upon  the  fells  ! 
Oh,  do  you  hear  the  tinkling  bells 
Of  sheep  that  wander  on  the  fells  ? 

The  tinkling  bells  the  silence  fills, 
Sings  cheerily  the  soul  that  wills  ; 
God  bless  the  shepherd  on  the  hills  ! 

God  bless  the  sheep  !     Their  tinkling  bells 

Make  music  over  all  the  fells  ; 

By  force  and  gill  and  tarn  it  swells, 

And  this  is  what  their  music  tells  : 

God  bless  the  sheep  upon  the  fells.'  " 

The  melody  was  wild  and  simple,  a  little 
plaintive  also  ;  and  Charlotte  sang  it  with  a  low, 
sweet  monotony  that  recalled,  one  knew  not 
how  or  why,  the  cool  fragrance  of  the  hill-side, 
and  the  scent  of  wild  flowers  by  running 
water. 

Then  she  went  slowly  home,  Ducie  walking 
to  the  pine-wood  with  her.  There  was  a  vague 
unrest  and  fear  at  her  heart,  she  knew  not 
why ;  for  who  can  tell  whence  spring  their 
thoughts,  or  what  mover  first  starts  them  from 


WOOING  AND    WEDDING.  199 

their  secret  lodging-place  ?  A  sadness  she 
could  not  fight  down  took  possession  of  her ; 
and  it  annoyed  her  the  more,  because  she 
found  every  one  pleasantly  excited  over  a  box 
•of  presents  that  had  just  arrived  from  India  for 
Sophia.  She  knew  that  her  depression  would 
be  interpreted  by  some  as  envy  and  jealousy, 
and  she  resented  the  false  position  it  put  her 
in;  and  yet  she  found  it  impossible  to  affect 
the  enthusiasm  which  was  expected  from  her 
•over  the  Cashmere  shawl  and  scarfs,  the  Indian 
fans  and  jewelry,  the  carved  ivory  trinkets, 
the  boxes  full  of  Eastern  scents,  —  sandal- 
wood  and  calamus,  nard  and  attar  of  roses,  and 
pungent  gums  that  made  the  old  "  Seat  "  feel 
like  a  little  bit  of  Asia. 

In  a  few  days  Julius  followed ;  he  came  to 
see  the  presents,  and  to  read,  with  personal 
illustrations  and  comments,  the  letters  that  had 
accompanied  them.  Sophia's  ideas  of  her  own 
importance  grew  constantly  more  pronounced  ; 
indeed,  there  was  a  certain  amount  of  "claim  " 
in  them,  which  no  one  liked  very  well  to  submit 
to.  And  yet  it  was  difficult  to  resist  demands 
enforced  by  such  remarks  as,  "It  is  the  last 
time  I  shall  ask  for  such  a  thing ; "  "  One  ex- 


2OO  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

pects  their  own  people  to  take  a  little  interest 
in  their  marriage;"  "I  am  sure  Julius  and  his 
family  have  done  all  they  can ; "  "  They  seem 
to  understand  what  a  girl  must  feel  and  like  at 
such  an  eventful  time  of  her  life,"  and  so  on, 
and  so  on,  in  variations  suited  to  the  circum 
stances  or  the  occasion. 

Every  one  was  worn  out  before  July,  and 
every  one  felt  it  to  be  a  relief  when  the  wed 
ding-day  came.  It  was  ushered  in  with  the 
chiming  of  bells,  and  the  singing  of  bride- 
songs  by  the  village  children.  The  village  it 
self  was  turned  upside  down,  and  the  house 
inside  out.  As  for  the  gloomy  old  church,  it 
looked  like  a  festal  place,  with  flowers  and  gay 
clothing  and  smiling  faces.  It  was  the  express 
wish  of  Sophia  that  none  of  the  company 
should  wear  white.  "  That  distinction,"  she 
said,  "ought  to  be  reserved  for  the  bride;" 
and  among  the  maids  in  pink  and  blue  and 
primrose,  she  stood  a  very  lily  of  womanhood. 
Her  diaphanous,  floating  robe  of  Dacca  muslin  ; 
her  Indian  veil  of  silver  tissue,  filmy  as  light; 
her  gleaming  pearls  and  feathery  fan,  made  her 

"  A  sight  to  dream  of,  not  to  tell." 


WOOING  AND    WEDDING.  2OI 

The  service  was  followed  by  the  convention 
al  wedding-breakfast  ;  the  congratulations  of 
friends,  and  the  rattling  away  of  the  bridal-car 
riage  to  the  "hurrahing"  of  the  servants  and 
the  villagers  ;  and  the  tin-tin-tabula  of  the  wed 
ding-peals.  Before  four  o'clock  the  last  guest 
had  departed,  and  the  squire  stood  with  his 
wife  and  Charlotte  weary  and  disconsolate 
amid  the  remains  of  the  feast  and  the  dying 
flowers ;  all  of  them  distinctly  sensitive  to  that 
mournful  air  which  accomplished  pleasures 
leave  behind  them. 

The  squire  could  say  nothing  to  dispel  it. 
He  took  his  rod  as  an  excuse  for  solitude,  and 
went  off  to  the  fells.  Mrs.  Sandal  was  crying 
with  exhaustion,  and  was  easily  persuaded  to 
go  to  her  room,  and  sleep.  Then  Charlotte 
called  the  servants,  men  and  women,  and  re 
moved  every  trace  of  the  ceremony,  and  all 
that  was  unusual  or  extravagant.  She  set  the 
simplest  of  meals ;  she  managed  in  some  way, 
without  a  word,  to  give  the  worried  squire  the 
assurance  that  all  the  folly  and  waste  and 
hurryment  were  over  for  ever ;  and  that  his  life 
was  to  fall  back  into  a  calm,  regular,  econom 
ical  groove. 


2O2  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

He  drank  his  tea  and  smoked  his  pipe  to 
this  sense,  and  was  happier  than  he  had  been 
for  many  a  week. 

"It  is  a  middling  good  thing,  Alice,"  he 
said,  "  that  we  have  only  one  more  daughter  to 
marry.  I  should  think  a  matter  of  three  or 
four  would  ruin  or  kill  a  man,  let  alone  a 
mother.  Eh  ?  What  ? " 

"That  is  the  blessed  truth,  William.  And 
yet  it  is  the  pride  of  my  heart  to  say  that  there 
never  was  such  a  bride  or  such  a  bridal  in  San 
dal-Side  before.  Still,  I  am  tired,  and  I  feel 
just  as  if  I  had  had  a  trouble.  Come  day,  go 
day ;  at  the  long  end,  life  is  no  better  than  the 
preacher  called  it  —  vanity" 

"  To  be  sure  it  is  not.  We  laugh  at  a  wed 
ding,  we  cry  at  a  burying,  a  christening 
brings  us  a  feast.  On  the  Sabbath  we  say  our 
litany  ;  and  as  for  the  rest  of  the  year,  one  day 
marrows  another." 

"Well,  well,  William  Sandal!  Maybe  we 
will  both  feel  better  after  a  night's  sleep.  To 
morrow  is  untouched." 

And  the  squire,  looking  into  her  pale,  placid 
face,  had  not  the  heart  to  speak  out  his 
thought,  which  was,  "  Nay,  nay ;  we  have 


WOOING  AND    WEDDING.  2O3 

mortgaged  to-morrow.  Debt  and  fear,  and  the 
penalties  of  over-work  and  over-eating  and  over- 
feeling,  will  be  dogging  us  for  their  dues  by 
dayshine." 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

THE    ENEMY    IN  THE    HOUSEHOLD. 

"  There  is  a  method  in  man's  wickedness, 
It  grows  up  by  degrees." 

"  How  sharper  than  a  serpent's  tooth  it  is 
To  have  a  thankless  child  ! " 

A  FTER  the  wedding,  there  were  some 
-t*-  weeks  of  that  peaceful  monotony  which 
is  the  happiest  vehicle  for  daily  life, — weeks 
so  uniform  that  Charlotte  remembered  their 
events  as  little  as  she  did  their  particular 
weather.  The  only  circumstance  that  cast  any 
shadow  over  them  related  to  Harry.  His  be 
havior  had  been  somewhat  remarkable,  and  the 
hope  that  time  would  explain  it  had  not  been 
realized  at  the  end  of  August. 

About  three  weeks  before  Sophia's  marriage, 
Harry  suddenly  wrote  to  say  that  he  had 
obtained  a  three  months'  furlough,  in  order  to 
go  to  Italy  with  a  sick  friend.  This  letter,  so 
utterly  unexpected,  caused  some  heart-burning 
204 


THE  ENEMY  IN  THE  HOUSEHOLD.      2O$ 

and  disappointment.  Sophia  had  calculated 
upon  Harry's  fine  appearance  and  splendid 
uniform  as  a  distinct  addition  to  her  wedding 
spectacle.  She  also  felt  that  the  whole  neigh 
borhood  would  be  speculating  upon  the  cause 
of  his  absence,  and  very  likely  infer  from  it 
that  he  disapproved  of  Julius ;  and  the  bare 
suspicion  of  such  a  slight  made  her  indignant. 

Julius  considered  this  to  be  the  true  state  of 
the  case,  though  he  promised  himself  "to  find 
out  all  about  Mr.  Harry's  affairs "  as  soon  as 
he  had  the  leisure  and  opportunity. 

"The  idea  of  Harry  going  as  sick-nurse  with 
any  friend  or  comrade  is  absurd,  Sophia.  How 
ever,  we  can  easily  take  Florence  into  our 
wedding-trip,  only  we  must  not  let  Charlotte 
know  of  our  intention.  Charlotte  is  against 
us,  Sophia ;  and  you  may  depend  upon  it, 
Harry  meant  to  insult  us  by  his  absence." 

Insult  or  not  to  the  bride  and  bridegroom, 
it  was  a  great  disappointment  to  Mrs.  Sandal. 
To  see,  to  speak  to  Harry  was  always  a  sure 
delight  to  her.  The  squire  loved  and  yet 
feared  his  visits.  Harry  always  needed  money ; 
and  lately  his  father  had  begun  to  understand, 
and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  what  a  many- 


2O6  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

sided  need  it  was.  To  go  to  his  secretary,  and 
to  find  no  gold  pieces  in  its  cash-drawer ;  and  to 
his  bank-book,  and  find  no  surplus  credit  there, 
gave  the  squire  a  feeling  of  blank  amazement 
and  heart-sick  perplexity.  He  felt  that  such  a 
change  as  that  might  prefigure  other  changes 
still  more  painful  and  frightsome. 

Charlotte  inclined  to  the  same  opinion  as 
Julius,  regarding  her  brother's  sudden  flight  to 
Florence.  She  concluded  that  he  had  felt  it 
impossible  to  congratulate  his  sister,  or  to  sim 
ulate  any  fraternal  regard  for  Julius  ;  and  her 
knowledge  of  facts  made  her  read  for  "  sick 
friend  "  "  fair  friend."  It  was,  indeed,  very  likely 
that  the  beautiful  girl,  whose  likeness  Harry 
carried  so  near  his  heart,  had  gone  to  Flor 
ence  ;  and  that  he  had  moved  heaven  and  earth 
to  follow  her  there.  And  when  his  own  love- 
affairs  were  pressing  and  important,  how  was  it 
likely  that  he  could  care  for  those  of  Julius  and 
Sophia  ? 

So,  at  intervals,  they  wondered  a  little  about 
Harry's  peculiar  movement,  and  tried  hard  to 
find  something  definite  below  the  surface  words 
of  his  short  letters.  Otherwise,  a  great  peace 
had  settled  over  Seat-Sandal-  Its  hall-doors 


THE  ENEMY  IN  THE  HOUSEHOLD.      2O/ 

stood  open  all  day  long,  and  the  August  sun 
shine  and  the  garden  scents  drifted  in  with  the 
lights  and  shadows.  Life  had  settled  down 
into  such  simple  ways,  that  it  seemed  to  be 
always  at  rest.  The  hours  went  and  came,  and 
brought  with  them  their  little  measure  of  duty 
and  pleasure,  both  so  usual  and  easy,  that  they 
took  nothing  from  the  feelings  or  the  strength, 
and  gave  an  infinite  sense  of  peace  and  con 
tentment. 

One  August  evening  they  were  in  the  gar 
den  ;  there  had  been  several  hot,  clear  days, 
and  the  harvesters  were  making  the  most  of 
every  hour.  The  squire  had  been  in  the  field 
until  near  sunset,  and  now  he  was  watching 
anxiously  for  the  last  wain.  "  We  have  the 
earliest  shearing  in,  Sandal-Side,"  he  said. 
"  The  sickle  has  not  been  in  the  upper  meadows 
yet,  and  if  they  finish  to-night  it  will  be  a  good 
thing.  It's  a  fine  moon  for  work.  A  fine  moon, 
God  bless  her !  Hark !  There  is  the  song  I 
have  been  waiting  for,  and  all's  well,  Char 
lotte."  And  they  stood  still  to  listen  to  the 
rumble  of  the  wagon,  and  the  rude,  hearty 
chant  that  at  intervals  accompanied  it: — 


208  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

"  Blest  be  the  day  that  Christ  was  born ! 
The  last  sheaf  of  Sandal  corn 
Is  well  bound,  and  better  shorn. 
Hip,  hip,  hurrah ! " 

44  Good-evening,  squire."  The  speaker  had 
come  quickly  around  one  of  the  garden  hedges, 
and  his  voice  seemed  to  fall  out  of  mid-air. 
Charlotte  turned,  with  eyes  full  of  light,  and  a 
flush  of  color  that  made  her  exceedingly  hand 
some. 

"  Well-a-mercy !  Good  -  evening,  Stephen. 
When  did  you  get  home  ?  Nobody  had  heard 
tell.  Eh?  What?" 

"  I  came  this  afternoon,  squire  ;  and  as  there 
is  a  favor  you  can  do  us,  I  thought  I  would 
ask  it  at  once." 

"  Surely,  Stephen.  What  can  I  do  ?  Eh  ? 
What  ? " 

"I  hear  your  harvest  is  home.  Can  you 
spare  us  a  couple  of  men  ?  The  wheat  in  Low 
Barra  fields  is  ready  for  the  sickle." 

"Three  men,  four,  if  you  want  them.  You 
cannot  have  too  many  sickles.  Cut  wheat  while 
the  sun  shines.  Eh  ?  What  ?  How  is  the  lady 
at  Up-Hill?" 

"  Mother   is    middling  well,    I'm   obliged   to 


THE   ENEMY  IN  THE  HOUSEHOLD.      2CK) 

you.  I  think  she  has  failed  though,  since 
grandfather  died." 

"It  is  likely.  She  has  been  too  much  by 
herself.  You  should  stay  at  home,  Stephen 
Latrigg.  A  man's  duty  is  more  often  there 
than  anywhere  else.  Eh  ? " 

"  I  think  you  are  right  now,  squire."  And 
then  he  blundered  into  the  very  statement  that 
he  ought  to  have  let  alone.  "And  I  am  not 
going  to  build  the  mill,  squire,  —  not  yet,  at 
least.  I  would  not  do  any  thing  to  annoy  you 
for  the  world." 

The  information  was  pleasant  to  Sandal ;  but 
he  had  already  heard  it,  in  its  least  offensive 
way,  through  Ducie  and  Charlotte.  Steve's 
broad  relinquishment  demanded  some  acknowl 
edgment,  and  appeared  to  put  him  under  an 
obligation  which  he  did  not  feel  he  had  any 
right  to  acknowledge.  He  considered  the 
building  of  a  mill  so  near  his  own  property  a 
great  social  wrong,  and  why  should  he  thank 
Stephen  Latrigg  for  not  committing  it  ? 

So  he  answered  coldly,  "  You  must  take  your 
own  way,  Stephen.  I  am  an  old  man.  I  have 
had  my  say  in  my  generation,  maybe  I  haven't 
any  right  to  meddle  with  yours.  New  men, 


2IO  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

new  times."  Then  being  conscious  that  he  was 
a  little  ungenerous  he  walked  off  to  Mrs.  San 
dal,  and  left  the  lovers  together.  Steve  would 
haveo  forgiven  the  squire  a  great  deal  more  for 
such  an  opportunity,  especially  as  a  still  kinder 
after-thought  followed  it.  For  he  had  not  gone 
far  before  he  turned,  and  called  back,  "  Bring 
Steve  into  the  house,  Charlotte.  He  will  stay, 
and  have  a  bit  of  supper  with  us,  no  doubt." 
Perhaps  the  lovers  made  the  way  into  the  house 
a  little  roundabout.  But  Sandal  was  not  an 
unjust  man  ;  and  having  given  them  the  oppor 
tunity,  he  did  not  blame  them  for  taking  it. 
Besides  he  could  trust  Charlotte.  Though  the 
heavens  fell,  he  could  trust  Charlotte. 

During  supper  the  conversation  turned  again 
to  Stephen's  future  plans.  Whether  the  squire 
liked  to  admit  the  fact  or  not,  he  was  deeply 
interested  in  them ;  and  he  listened  carefully  to 
what  the  young  man  said. 

"  If  I  am  going  to  trust  to  sheep,  squire, 
then  I  may  as  well  have  plenty  to  trust  to.  I 
think  of  buying  the  Penghyll  '  walk,'  and  put 
ting  a  thousand  on  it." 

"  My  song,  Stephen  !  " 

"  I  can  manage  them  quite  well.     I  shall  get 


THE  ENEMY  IN  THE   HOUSEHOLD.      211 

more  shepherds,  and  there  are  new  ways  oiE 
doing  things  that  lighten  labor  very  much.  I 
have  been  finding  out  all  about  them.  I  think 
of  taking  three  thousand  fleeces,  at  the  very 
least,  to  Bradford  next  summer." 

"  Two  hundred  years  ago  somebody  thought 
of  harnessing  a  flock  of  wild  geese  for  a  trip  to 
the  moon.  They  never  could  do  it.  Eh  ? 
What  ? " 

Stephen  laughed  a  little  uncomfortably. 
"  That  was  nonsense,  squire." 

"  It  was  '  almighty  youth,'  Stephen.  The 
young  think  they  can  do  every  thing.  In  a 
few  years  they  do  what  they  can  and  what 
they  may.  It  is  a  blessed  truth  that  the  mind 
cannot  stay  long  in  a  bree.  It  gets  tired  of 
ballooning,  and  comes  down  to  hands  and  feet 
again.  Eh  ?  What  ? " 

"  I  think  you  mean  kindly,  squire." 

The  confidence  touched  him.  "  I  do,  Steve. 
Don't  be  in  a  hurry,  my  lad.  There  are  some 
things  in  life  that  are  worth  a  deal  more  than 
money,  —  things  that  money  cannot  buy.  Let 
money  take  a  backward  place."  Then  he  vol 
untarily  asked  about  the  processes  of  spinning 
and  weaving  wool,  and  in  spite  of  his  preju- 


212  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

dices  was  a  little  excited  over  Stephen's  start 
ling  statements  and  statistics. 

Indeed,  the  young  man  was  so  interesting, 
that  Sandal  went  with  him  to  the  hall-door,  and 
stood  there  with  him,  listening  to  his  graphic 
descriptions  of  the  wool-rooms  at  the  top  of 
the  great  Yorkshire  mills.  "  I'd  like  well  to 
take  you  through  one,  squire.  Fleeces  ?  You 
would  be  wonder-struck.  There  are  long  sta 
ple  and  short  staple ;  silky  wool  and  woolly 
wool ;  black  fleeces  from  the  Punjaub,  and  curly 
white  ones  from  Bombay ;  long  warps  from 
Russia,  short  ones  from  Buenos  Ayres  ;  little 
Spanish  fleeces,  and  our  own  Westmoreland  and 
Cumberland  skins,  that  beat  every  thing  in  the 
world  for  size.  And  then  to  see  them  turned 
into  cloth  as  fast  as  steam  can  do  it !  My 
word,  squire,  there  never  was  magic  or  witch 
craft  like  the  steam  and  metal  witchcraft  of  a 
Yorkshire  mill." 

"Well,  well,  Steve.  I  don't  fret  myself  be 
cause  I  am  set  in  stiller  ways,  and  I  don't 
blame  those  who  like  the  hurryment  of  steam 
and  metal.  Each  of  us  has  God's  will  to  do, 
and  our  own  race  to  run  ;  and  may  we  prosper." 

After   this,    Steve,    sometimes    gaining   and 


THE  ENEMY  IN  THE    HOUSEHOLD.      2  I  3 

sometimes  losing,  gradually  won  his  way  back 
to  the  squire's  liking.  September  proved  to  be 
an  unusually  fair  month ;  and  to  the  lovers  it 
was  full  of  happiness,  for  early  in  it  their  rela 
tion  to  each  other  was  fully  recognized ;  and 
Stephen  had  gone  in  and  out  of  the  pleasant 
"  Seat,"  dayshine  and  dark,  as  the  acknowl 
edged  lover  of  Charlotte  Sandal.  The  squire, 
upon  the  whole,  submitted  gracefully :  he  only 
stipulated  that  for  some  time,  indefinitely 
postponed,  the  subject  of  marriage  was  not 
to  be  taken  into  consideration.  "  I  could  not 
bear  it  any  road.  I  could  not  bear  it  yet, 
Stephen.  Wait  your  full  time,  and  be  glad  to 
wait.  So  few  young  men  will  understand  that 
to  pluck  the  blossom  is  to  destroy  the  fruit." 

Towards  the  end  of  September,  there  was  a 
letter  from  Sophia  dated  Florence.  Some  let 
ters  are  like  some  individuals,  they  carry  with 
them  a  certain  unpleasant  atmosphere.  None 
of  Sophia's  epistles  had  been  very  satisfactory ; 
for  they  were  so  short,  and  yet  so  definitely 
pinned  to  Julius,  that  they  were  but  commenta 
ries  on  that  individual.  At  Paris  she  had  sim 
ply  asked  Julius,  "  What  do  you  think  of  Paris  ?" 
And  the  opinion  of  Julius  was  then  given  to 


214  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

Seat-Sandal  confidently  as  the  only  correct  esti 
mate  that  the  world  was  likely  to  get.  At 
Venice,  Rome,  Naples,  her  plan  was  identical ; 
and  any  variation  of  detail  simply  referred  to 
the  living  at  different  places,  and  how  Julius 
liked  it,  and  how  it  had  agreed  with  him. 

So  when  the  Florence  letter  came,  there  was 
no  particular  enthusiasm  about  it.  The  address 
assigned  it  to  the  squire,  and  he  left  it  lying  on 
the  table  while  he  finished  the  broiled  trout 
and  coffee  before  him.  But  it  troubled  Char 
lotte,  and  she  waited  anxiously  for  the  unpleas 
ant  words  she  felt  sure  were  inside  of  it.  Yet 
there  was  no  change  on  the  squire's  face,  and 
no  sign  of  annoyance,  as  he  read  it.  "  It  is 
about  the  usual  thing,  Alice.  Julius  likes 
Florence.  It  is  called  'the  beautiful.'  Julius 
thinks  that  it  deserves  the  title.  The  wine  in 
Rome  did  not  suit  Julius,  but  he  finds  the  Flor 
ence  vintage  much  better.  The  climate  is  very 
delightful,  Julius  is  sure  he  will  derive  benefit 
from  it;  and  so  on,  and  so  on,  and  so  on.'" 
Then  there  was  a  short  pause,  and  a  rapid  turn 
of  the  sheet  to  glance  at  the  other  side.  "  Oh, 
Julius  met  Harry  yesterday!  He  —  Julius  — 
does  not  think  Harry  is  doing  right.  '  Harry 


THE  ENEMY  IN   THE  HOUSEHOLD.  .215 

always  was  selfish  and  extravagant,  and  though 
he  did  affront  us  on  our  wedding-day,  Julius 
thought  it  proper  to  call  upon  him.  He  —  I 
mean  Harry  —  was  with  a  most  beautiful  young 
.girl.  Julius  thinks'  father  ought  to  write  to 
1  him,  and  tell  him  to  go  back  to  his  duty.' " 

These  were  the  words,  doubtful  and  sugges 
tive,  which  made  every  heart  in  Seat-Sandal 
thoroughly  uncomfortable.  And  yet  Charlotte 
stoutly  said,  "  I  would  not  mind  Sophia's  in 
sinuations,  father  and  mother.  She  is  angry  at 
Harry.  Harry  has  as  much  right  in  Florence 
as  Sophia  has.  He  told  us  he  was  going 
there.  He  has  written  to  us  frequently.  Sup 
pose  he  was  with  a  beautiful  girl :  is  Julius  the 
only  young  man  entitled  to  such  a  privilege  ? 
Sophia  is  happy  in  her  own  way,  and  we  do 
not  envy  nor  interfere  with  her  happiness  ;  but 
why  should  we  permit  her  to  make  us  unhappy  ? 
Throw  the  letter  out  of  your  memories,  dear 
father  and  mother.  It  is  only  a  piece  of  ill- 
nature.  Perhaps  Julius  had  been  cross  with 
her ;  and  if  Sophia  has  a  grievance,  she  never 
Tests  until  she  passes  it  on  to  some  one." 

Women  still  hold  the  divining  -  cup,  and 
Charlotte  was  not  far  wrong  in  her  supposi- 


2l6          THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

tion.  In  spite  of  their  twinship  of  soul,  and 
in  spite  of  that  habit  of  loving  which  was 
involved  in  their  belief  "that  they  had  been 
husband  and  wife  in  many  a  previous  exist 
ence,"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Julius  Sandal  disagreed  as 
conventionally  as  the  ordinary  husband  and 
wife  of  one  existence.  The  day  on  which  the 
Florence  letter  was  written  had  been  a  very 
unhappy  one  for  Sophia.  Julius  had  quarrelled 
jvith  her  about  some  very  trivial  affair,  and 
had  gone  out  in  a  temper  disgracefully  at 
variance  with  the  occasion  for  it ;  and  Sophia 
had  sat  all  day  nursing  her  wrath  in  her 
darkened  room.  She  did  not  dress  for  the 
evening  drive,  for  she  had  determined  to  "  keep* 
up "  her  anger  until  Julius  made  her  some 
atonement. 

But  when  he  came  home,  she  could  not 
resist  his  air  of  confidence  and  satisfaction. 
He  had  quite  forgotten  the  affair  at  the  break 
fast-table,  and  was  only  eager  for  her  help  and 
sympathy.  "  I  have  seen  Harry,"  he  said. 

"Very  well.  You  came  here  to  find  him. 
I  suppose  I  can  see  him  also.  I  am  sure  I 
need  to  see  some  one.  I  have  been  neglected 
all  day  ;  suffering,  lonely,"  — 


THE  ENEMY  IN  THE  HOUSEHOLD.      2 1/ 

"  Sophia,  you  and  I  are  here  to  look  after 
our  own  affairs  a  little.  If  you  are  willing  to 
help  me,  I  shall  be  glad  ;  if  not "  — 

"You  know  I  will  help  you  in  any  thing  I 
can,  Julius." 

Then  he  kissed  her,  and  she  cried  a  little, 
and  he  kissed  her  again ;  and  she  dressed  her 
self,  and  they  went  for  a  drive,  and  during  it 
met  Harry,  and  brought  him  back  to  dine  with 
them.  Julius  was  particularly  pleasant  to  the 
unsuspicious  soldier.  He  soon  perceived  that 
he  was  thoroughly  disgusted  with  the  rigor  and 
routine  of  military  life,  and  longing  to  free 
himself  from  its  thraldom  ;  and  he  encouraged 
him  in  the  idea. 

"  I  wonder  how  you  stand  it,  Harry,"  he 
said  sympathetically. 

"  You  see,  Julius,  when  I  went  into  the 
army,  I  was  so  weary  of  Sandal-Side  ;  and  I 
liked  the  uniform,  and  the  stir  of  an  officer's 
life,  and  the  admiration  of  the  girls,  and  the 
whole  tclat  of  the  thing.  But  when  a  man's 
time  comes,  and  he  falls  so  deeply  in  love 
that  he  cares  for  nothing  on  earth  but  one 
woman,  then  he  hates  whatever  comes  between 
himself  and  that  woman." 


2l8  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

"  Naturally  so.  I  suppose  it  is  the  young 
lady  I  saw  you  walking  with  this  morning." 

And  Harry  blushed  like  a  girl  as  he  gravely 
nodded  his  head. 

"  Does  she  live  here  ? " 

"She  will  for  the  future." 

"  And  you  must  go  back  to  your  regiment  ?  " 

"Almost  immediately." 

"  Too  bad !  Too  bad !  Why  not  leave  the 
army  ? " 

"I  —  I  have  thought  of  that ;  but  unless  I 
returned  to  Sandal-Side,  my  father  would  be 
angry  beyond  every  thing." 

"  Fathers  cannot  be  autocrats  —  quite.  You 
might  sell  out." 

"  Julius,  you  ought  not  to  suggest  such  a 
thing.  The  temptation  has  been  lurking  in 
my  own  heart.  I  am  sorry  you  have  given  it 
a  voice.  It  would  be  a  shameful  thing  to  do 
unless  father  were  willing." 

"  I  have  a  friend  anxious  for  a  commission. 
I  should  think  a  thousand  pounds  would  make 
an  exchange." 

"Do  not  speak  on  the  subject,  Julius." 

"  Very  well.  I  was  only  supposing ;  a 
fellow-feeling,  you  know.  I  have  married  the 


THE  ENEMY  IN  THE  HOUSEHOLD.      2 1C) 

girl  I  desired  ;  and  I  am  sorry  for  a  young  man 
who  is  obliged  to  leave  a  handsome  mistress, 
and  to  feel  that  others  may  see  her  and  talk  to 
her  while  he  cannot.  It  was  only  a  supposi 
tion.  Do  not  mind  it." 

But  the  germ  of  every  wrong  deed  is  the 
reflection  whether  it  be  possible.  And  after 
Harry  had  gone  away  with  the  thought  in  his 
heart,  Julius  sat  musing  over  his  own  plans,  and 
Sophia  wrote  the  letter  which  so  unnecessarily 
and  unkindly  shadowed  the  pleasant  life  at 
Seat-Sandal.  For  though  the  squire  pooh- 
poohed  it,  and  Charlotte  professed  indifference 
about  it,  and  Mrs.  Sandal  kept  assuring  herself 
and  others  that  "  Harry  never,  never  would  do 
any  thing  wrong  or  unkind,  especially  about  a 
woman,"  every  one  was  apprehensive  and 
watchful.  But  at  last,  even  suspicion  tires  of 
watching  for  events  that  never  happen  ;  and 
Sophia  sent  other  letters,  and  made  no  mention 
of  Harry ;  and  the  fear  that  had  crouched  at 
each  home-heart  slunk  away  into  forgetfulness. 

Into  total  forgetfulness.  When  Harry  volun 
tarily  came  home  for  Christmas,  no  one  coupled 
his  visit  with  the  remarks  made  by  Sophia  four 
months  previously.  They  had  not  expected  to 


22O          THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

see  him,  and  the  news  of  his  advent  barely 
reached  the  house  before  he  followed  it ;  for 
there  was  a  heavy  snow-storm,  and  the  mail  was 
sent  forward  with  difficulty.  So  Mrs.  Sandal 
was  reading  the  letter  announcing  his  visit 
when  she  heard  his  voice  in  the  hall,  and  the 
joyful  cry  of  Charlotte  as  she  ran  to  meet  him. 
And  that  night  every  one  was  too  happy,  too 
full  of  inquiry  and  information,  to  notice  that 
Harry  was  under  an  unusual  restraint.  It  did 
not  even  strike  Charlotte  until  she  awoke  the 
next  morning  with  all  her  faculties  fresh  and 
clear ;  then  she  felt,  rather  than  understood, 
that  there  was  something  not  quite  right  about 
Harry. 

It  was  still  snowing,  and  every  thing  was 
white ;  but  the  atmosphere  of  a  quiet,  happy 
Christmas  was  in  the  house.  There  were  smil 
ing  faces  and  good  wishes  at  the  breakfast-table, 
and  the  shifting  lustres  of  blazing  fires  upon 
the  dark  walls  and  evergreens  and  wax-white 
mistletoe.  And  the  wind  brought  a  Christmas 
greeting  from  the  bells  of  Furness  and  Torver, 
and  Sandal-Side  peal  sent  it  on  to  Earlstower 
and  Coniston.  After  breakfast  they  all  went 
to  church ;  and  Harry  saw,  as  in  a  dream,  the 


THE  ENEMY  IN  THE  HOUSEHOLD.      221 

sacred  table  spread  with  spotless  cloth  and 
silver  cups  and  flagons,  and  the  dim  place 
decked  with  holly,  and  the  smiling  glance  of 
welcome  from  his  old  acquaintances  in  the 
village.  And  he  fell  into  a  reverie  which  was 
not  a  Christmas  reverie,  and  had  it  suddenly 
broken  by  his  sister  singing  high  and  clear  the 
carol  the  angels  sung  on  the  hills  of  Bethlehem, 
—  "Glory  be  to  God  on  high  !  "  And  the  tears 
sprang  into  his  eyes,  and  he  looked  steathily  at 
his  father  and  mother,  who  were  reverently 
listening ;  and  said  softly  to  himself,  "  I  wish 
that  I  had  never  been  born." 

For  he  had  come  to  tell  his  father  news 
which  he  knew  would  shake  the  foundations  of 
love  and  life ;  and  he  felt  like  a  coward  and 
a  thief  in  delaying  the  explanation.  "  What 
right  have  I  to  this  one  day's  more  love  ? "  he 
asked  himself ;  and  yet  he  could  not  endure  to 
mar  the  holy,  unselfish  festival  with  the  revela 
tion  of  his  own  selfishness.  As  the  day  wore 
on,  a  sense  of  weariness  and  even  gloom  came 
with  it.  Rich  food  and  wine  are  by  no  means 
conducive  to  cheerfulness.  The  squire  sloomed 
and  slept  in  his  chair  ;  and  finally,  after  a  cup  of 
tea,  sv-snt  to  bed.  The  servants  had  a  party  in 


222          THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

their  own  hall,  and  Mrs.  Sandal  and  Charlotte 
were  occupied  an  hour  or  two  in  its  ordering. 
Then  the  mother  was  thoroughly  weary ;  and 
before  it  was  quite  nine  o'clock,  Harry  and 
Charlotte  were  left  alone  by  the  parlor  fire. 
Charlotte  was  a  little  dull  also ;  for  Steve  had 
found  it  impossible  to  get  down  the  mountain 
during  the  storm,  and  she  missed  him,  and  was 
constantly  inclined  to  fall  into  short  silences. 

After  one  of  them,  she  raised  her  eyes  to 
Harry's  face,  and  was  shocked  by  its  expression. 
"  Harry,"  she  said,  leaning  forward  to  take  his 
hand,  "  I  am  sure  you  are  in  trouble.  What  is 
it  ? " 

"  If  I  durst  tell  you,  Charlotte  !  " 

"Whatever  you  have  dared  to  do,  you  may 
dare  to  tell  me,  Harry,  I  think." 

"I  have  got  married." 

"  Well,  where  is  the  harm  ?  Is  it  to  the  lady 
whose  picture  you  showed  me  ? " 

"Yes.     I  told  you  she  was  poor." 

"  It  is  a  great  pity  she  is  poor.  I  am  afraid 
we  are  getting  poor  too.  Father  was  saying 
last  week  that  he  had  been  talking  with  Squire 
Beverley.  Emily  is  to  have  fifteen  thousand 
pounds.  Father  is  feverishly  anxious  about  you 


THE  ENEMY  IN  THE  HOUSEHOLD.      22$ 

and  Emily.  Her  fortune  would  be  a  great 
thing  at  Sandal,  and  father  likes  her." 

"  What  is  the  use  of  talking  about  Emily  ? 
I  have  been  married  to  Beatrice  Lanza  since 
last  September." 

"  Such  a  strange  name !  Is  it  a  Scotch 
name?" 

"  She  is  an  Italian." 

"  Harry  Sandal !     What  a  shame  ! " 

"  Don't  you  think  God  made  Italians  as  well 
as  Englishmen  ? " 

"That  is  not  the  question.  God  made  In 
dians  and  negroes  and  all  sorts  of  people. 
But  he  set  the  world  in  races,  as  he  set  races 
in  families.  He  told  the  Jews  to  keep  to  them 
selves.  He  was  angry  when  they  intermarried 
with  others.  It  always  brought  harm.  What 
kind  of  a  person  is  an  Italian  ?  They  are  pa 
pists,  I  know.  The  Pope  of  Rome  is  an  Italian. 
O  Harry,  Harry,  Harry !  It  will  kill  father 
and  mother.  But  perhaps,  as  you  met  her  in 
Edinburgh,  she  is  a  Protestant.  The  Scotch 
are  all  Protestants." 

"  Beatrice  is  a  Roman  Catholic,  a  very  strict 
Roman  Catholic.  I  had  to  marry  her  in  a 
Romish  church."  He  said  the  words  rather  de- 


224          THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

fiantly,  for  Charlotte's  attitude  offended  him  ; 
and  he  had  reached  that  point  when  it  was  a 
reckless  pleasure  to  put  things  at  their  worst. 

"  Then  I  am  ashamed  of  you.  The  dear  old 
rector !  He  married  father  and  mother ;  he 
christened  and  confirmed  you ;  you  might  be 
sure,  that  if  you  could  not  ask  him  to  marry 
you,  you  had  no  business  to  marry  at  all." 

"  You  said  her  face  was  like  an  angel's,  and 
that  you  would  love  her,  Charlotte." 

"  Oh,  indeed!  But  I  did  not  think  the  angel 
was  an  Italian  angel  and  a  Roman  -  Catholic 
angel.  Circumstances  alter  cases.  You,  who 
have  been  brought  up  a  good  Church-of-Eng- 
land  gentleman,  to  go  over  to  the  Pope  of 
Rome ! " 

"I  have  not  gone  over  to  the  Pope  of 
Rome." 

"  All  the  same,  Harry ;  all  the  same.  And 
you  know  how  father  feels  about  that.  Father 
would  fight  for  the  Church  quicker  than  he 
would  fight  for  his  own  house  and  land.  Why ! 
the  Sandals  got  all  of  their  Millom  Estate  for 
being  good  Protestants ;  for  standing  by  the 
Hanoverian  line  instead  of  those  popish  Stu 
arts.  Father  will  think  you  have  committed  an 


THE   EXE  MY  IN  THE  HOUSEHOLD.      22-, 

act  of  treason  against  both  church  and  state, 
and  he  will  be  ashamed  to  show  his  face  among 
the  Dale  squires.  It  is  too  bad  !  too  bad  for  any 
thing ! "  and  she  covered  her  face,  and  cried 
bitterly. 

"  She  is  so  lovely,  so  good  "  — 

"Nonsense!  Were  there  no  lovely  English 
girls  ?  no  good  English  girls  ?  Emily  is  ten 
times  lovelier." 

"  You  know  what  you  said." 

"  I  said  it  to  please  you." 

"  Charlotte ! " 

"  Yes,  I  did,  —  at  least,  in  a  great  measure. 
It  is  easy  enough  to  call  a  pretty  girl  an  angel ; 
and  as  for  my  promise  to  love  your  wife,  of 
course  I  expected  you  would  choose  a  wife  suit 
able  to  your  religion  and  your  birth.  Suppose 
you  selected  some  outlandish  dress,  —  an  Italian 
brigand's,  for  instance,  —  what  would  the  neigh 
boring  gentlemen  think  of  you  ?  It  would  be 
an  insult  to  their  national  costume,  and  they 
would  do  right  to  resent  it.  Well,  being  who 
and  what  you  are,  you  have  no  right  to  bring 
an  Italian  woman  into  Seat-Sandal.  It  is  an 
insult  to  every  woman  in  the  county,  and  they 
will  make  you  feel  it." 


226          THE.  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

"  I  shall  not  give  them  the  opportunity. 
Beatrice  cannot  live  in  this  beastly  climate." 

"The  climate  is  wrong  also?  Naturally.  It 
would  follow  the  religion  and  the  woman. 
Harry  Sandal,  I  wish  I  had  died,  ere  my  ears 
had  heard  such  a  shame  and  sorrow  for  my 
father  and  mother!  Where  are  you  going  to 
live,  then  ? " 

"In  Florence.  It  is  the  birthplace  of  Bea 
trice  the  city  associated  with  all  her  triumphs." 

"  God  have  mercy,  Harry !  Her  triumphs  ! 
Is  she,  then,  an  actress  ? " 

"  She  is  a  singer,  —  a  wonderful  singer ;  one 
to  whom  the  world  has  listened  with  breathless 
delight." 

"  A  singing  woman  !  And  you  have  married 
her  ?  It  is  an  outrage  on  your  ancestors,  and 
on  your  parents  and  sisters." 

"  I  will  not  hear  you  speak  in  that  way,  Char 
lotte.  Of  course  I  married  her.  Did  you  wish 
me  to  ruin  and  debase  her  ?  That,  I  suppose, 
you  could  have  forgiven.  My  sin  against  the 
Sandals  and  society  is,  that  I  married  her." 

"  No,  sir  ;  you  know  better.  Your  sin  is  in 
having  any  thing  whatever  to  do  with  her. 
There  is  not  a  soul  in  Sandal  that  would  have 


THE  ENEMY  IN  THE  HOUSEHOLD.      22? 

hesitated  between  ruin  and  marriage.  If  it  had 
to  be  one  or  the  other,  then  father  and  mother 
both,  then  I,  then  all  your  friends,  would  have 
said  without  hesitation,  'Marry  the  woman.'  " 

"I  expected  and  hoped  this  would  be  your 
view  of  the  situation.  I  could  not  give  up 
Beatrice,  and  I  could  not  be  a  scoundrel  to 
her." 

"  You  might  have  thought  of  another  woman 
besides  Beatrice.  Is  a  sin  against  a  mother  a 
less  sin  than  one  against  a  strange  woman  ?  A 
mother  is  something  sacred.  To  wound  her 
heart  is  to  throw  a  stone  at  her.  You  have 
committed  a  sort  of  sacrilege.  And  you  are 
married.  No  entreaties  can  prevent,  and  no- 
repentance  can  avail.  Oh,  what  a  sorrow  to 
darken  all  the  rest  of  father's  and  mother's 
days !  What  right  have  you  to  spoil  their 
lives,  in  order  to  give  yourself  a  little  pleasure  ? 
O  Harry  !  I  never  knew  that  you  were  selfish 
before." 

"  I  deserve  all  you  say,  Charley,  but  I  loved 
Beatrice  so  much." 

"  Are  you  sure,  even  of  that  excuse  ?  I 
heard  you  vow  that  you  loved  Eliza  Pierson 
'so  much,'  and  Fanny  Ulloch  'so  much/  and1 


228          THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

Emily  Beverley  'so  much.'  Why  did  you  not 
come  home,  and  speak  to  me  before  it  was  too 
late  ?  Why  come  at  all  now  ? " 

"  Because  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about  money. 
I  have  sold  out." 

"  Sold  out  ?  Is  there  any  more  bad  news  ? 
Do  you  know  what  father  paid  for  your  com 
mission  ?  Do  you  know  how  it  hampered  him 
to  do  it  ?  that,  in  fact,  he  has  never  been  quite 
easy  about  ready  money  since  ? " 

"  I  had  to  sell  out.  Did  I  not  tell  you  that 
Beatrice  could  not  live  in  this  climate?  She 
was  very  ill  when  she  returned  to  Italy. 
Signor  Lanza  was  in  great  trouble  about 
her." 

"  Signor  Lanza  ?     Her  brother,  I  suppose." 

."You  suppose  wrong.     He  is  her  father." 

"  For  her,  then,  you  have  given  up  your 
faith,  your  country,  your  home,  your  profes 
sion,  every  thing  that  other  men  hold  dear  and 
sacred.  Do  you  expect  father  to  support  you  ? 
Or  is  your  wife  to  sing  in  Italy  ?  " 

"  I  think  you  are  trying  how  disagreeable  you 
can  be,  Charlotte." 

"  I  am  asking  you  honest  questions  in  honest 
words." 


THE  ENEMY  IN  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

"I  have  the  money  from  the  sale  of  my 
commission." 

"  It  does  not  then  strike  you  as  dishonorable 
to  keep  it  ? " 

"  No,  father  gave  me  it." 

"  It  appears  to  me,  that  if  money  was  taken 
from  the  estate,  let  us  say  to  stock  a  sheep- 
walk,  and  it  was  decided  after  three  years'  trial 
to  give  up  the  enterprise,  and  sell  the  sheep, 
that  the  money  would  naturally  go  back  to  the 
estate.  When  you  came  of  age,  father  made 
you  a  very  generous  allowance.  After  a  time 
you  preferred  that  he  should  invest  a  large 
sum  in  a  military  commission  for  you  ;  and  you 
proposed  to  live  upon  your  pay,  —  a  thing  you 
never  have  even  tried  to  do.  Suddenly,  you 
find  that  the  commission  will  not  suit  your 
more  recent  plans,  and  you  sell  it.  Ought  not 
the  money  to  go  back  to  the  estate,  and  you 
to  make  a  fresh  arrangement  with  father  about 
your  allowance  ?  That  is  my  idea." 

"  Foolishness  !  And  pray  what  allowance 
would  my  father  make  me,  after  the  marriage 
I  have  contracted  ?  " 

"  Now,  you  show  your  secret  heart,  Harry. 
You  know  you  have  no  right  to  expect  one, 


230          THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

and  so  you  keep  what  is  not  yours.  This  sin 
also  for  the  woman  whom  you  have  put  before 
every  sentiment  of  love  and  honor." 

"You  were  stubborn  enough  about  Steve 
Latrigg." 

"  I  was  honorable ;  I  was  considerate  for 
father,  and  did  not  put  Stephen  before  him. 
Do  you  think  I  would  ever  marry  Stephen 
against  father's  wish,  or  to  the  injury  or 
suffering  of  any  one  whom  I  love  ?  Certainly 
I  would  marry  no  one  else,  but  I  gave  father 
my  word  that  I  would  wait  for  his  sanction. 
When  people  do  right,  things  come  right  for 
them.  But  if  father  had  stood  out  twenty 
years,  Steve  and  I  would  have  waited.  Ducie 
gave  us  the  same  advice.  '  Wait,  children,'  she 
said  :  '  I  have  seen  many  a  wilful  match,  and 
many  a  run-away  match,  but  never  one,  never 
one  that  prospered.' ' 

"  Charley,  I  expected  you  to  stand  by  me.  I 
expected  you  to  help  me." 

"  O  Harry,  Harry  !  How  can  I  help  ?' 
What  can  I  do  ?  There  is  nothing  left  but  to 
suffer." 

"  There  is  this  :  plead  for  me  when  I  am 
away.  My  wife  is  sick  in  Florence.  I  must 


THE  ENEMY  IN  THE  HOUSEHOLD.      231 

go  to  her  at  once.  The  money  I  have  from 
my  commission  is  all  I  have.  I  am  going  to 
invest  it  in  a  little  house  and  vineyard.  I  have 
found  out  that  my  real  tastes  are  for  a  pastoral 
life." 

"  Ah,  if  you  could  only  have  found  that 
out  for  father  !  " 

"  Circumstances  may  change." 

"  That  is,  your  father  may  die.  I  suppose 
you  and  your  wife  have  talked  over  that 
probability.  Beatrice  will  be  able  to  endure  the 
climate  then." 

"  If  I  did  not  see  that  you  were  under  very 
strong  excitement,  Charlotte,  I  should  be  much 
offended  by  what  you  say.  But  you  don't 
mean  to  hurt  me.  Do  you  imagine  that  I  feel 
no  sorrow  in  leaving  father  and  my  mother  and 
you  and  the  old  home  ?  My  heart  is  very  sad 
to-night,  Charley.  I  feel  that  I  shall  come 
here  no  more." 

"  Then  why  go  away  ?     Why,  why  ? " 

"  Because  a  man  leaves  father  and  mother 
and  every  thing  for  the  woman  he  loves.  Char 
ley,  help  me." 

She  shook  her  head  sadly. 

"Help  me  to  break  the  trouble  to  father." 


232  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

"  There  is  no  '  breaking '  it.  It  will  break 
him.  It  will  kill  him.  Alas,  it  i»  <he  ungrate 
ful  child  that  has  the  power  to  inflict  a  slow 
and  torturing  death !  Poor  father !  Poor 
mother !  And  it  is  I  that  must  witness  it.  I, 
that  would  die  to  save  them  from  such  unde 
served  sorrow." 

Then  Harry  rose  up  angrily,  pushed  his 
chair  impatiently  away,  and  without  a  word 
went  to  his  own  room. 

In  the  morning  the  squire  came  down 
to  breakfast  in  exceedingly  high  spirits.  A 
Scotchman  would  have  called  him  "fey"  and 
been  certain  that  misfortune  was  at  his  heels. 
And  Charlotte  looked  at  him  in  wondering 
pity,  for  Harry's  face  was  the  face  of  a  man 
determined  to  carry  out  his  own  will  regardless 
of  consequences. 

"  Come,  come,  Harry,"  said  the  squire  in  a 
loud,  cheerful  voice,  "you  are  moping,  and  eat 
ing  no  breakfast.  Charlotte  will  have  to  fill 
three  times  before  it  is  '  cup  down '  with  me. 
I  think  we  will  take  Dobbin,  and  go  over  to 
Windermere  in  the  tax-cart.  The  roads  will 
be  a  bit  sloppery,  but  Dobbin  isn't  too  old  to 
splash  through  them  at  a  rattling  pace.  He  is 


THE  ENEMY  IN  THE  HOUSEHOLD.      233 

a  famous  good  old-has-been  is  Dobbin.  Give 
me  a  Suffolk  Punch  for  a  roadster.  I  set  much 
by  them.  Eh  ?  What  ?  " 

"  I  must  leave  Sandal  this  morning,  sir." 

"  Sir  me  no  sir,  Harry.  '  Father  '  will  stand 
between  you  and  me,  I  think.  You  must  make 
a  put-off  for  one  day.  I  was  at  Bowness  last 
week,  and  they  say  such  a  winter  for  char-fish 
ing  was  never  seen.  While  I  was  on  the  lake 
side,  Kit  Noble's  boat  came  in.  He  had  all  of 
twenty  dozen  in  the  bottom  of  it.  Mr.  Words 
worth  was  there  too,  and  he  made  a  piece  of 
poetry  about  '  The  silvery  lights  playing  over 
them  ; '  and  he  took  me  to  see  a  picture  that  a 
London  gentleman  painted  of  Kit  and  his  boat. 
You  never  saw  fish  out  of  the  water  look  so 
fresh  ;  their  olive-green  backs  and  vermillion 
bellies  and  dark-red  fins  were  as  natural  as  life. 
Come  Harry,  we  will  go  and  fetch  over  a  few 
dozen.  If  you  carry  your  colonel  some,  he  will 
take  the  gift  as  an  excuse  for  the  day.  Eh  ? 
What  ? " 

"  I  think  Harry  had  better  not  go  with  you, 
father." 

"Eh?  What  is  the  matter  with  you,  Char 
lotte?  You  are  as  nattert  and  cross  as  never 


234  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

was.  Where  is  your  mother  ?  I  like  my  morn, 
ing  cup  filled  with  a  smile.  It  helps  the  day 
through." 

"Mother  isn't  feeling  well.  She  had  a  bad 
dream  about  Harry  and  you,  and  she  is  making 
herself  sick  over  it.  She  is  all  in  a  tremble. 
I  didn't  think  mother  was  so  foolish." 

"  Dreams  are  from  somewhere  beyond  us, 
Charlotte.  There's  them  that  visit  us  a-dream- 
ing.  I  am  not  so  wise  as  to  be  foolish.  I  be 
lieve  in  some  things  that  are  outside  of  my 
short  wits.  Maybe  we  had  better  not  go  to 
Windermere.  We  might  be  tempted  into  a 
boat,  and  dry  land  is  a  middling  bit  safer.  Eh  ? 
What?" 

Charlotte  felt  as  if  she  could  endure  her 
father's  unsuspicious  happiness  no  longer.  It 
was  like  watching  a  little  child  smiling  and 
prattling  on  the  road  to  its  mother's  funeral. 
She  put  Mrs.  Sandal's  breakfast  on  a  small 
tray,  and  with  this  in  her  hand  went  up-stairs, 
leaving  Harry  and  the  squire  still  at  the  table. 

"  Charlotte  is  a  bit  hurrysome  this  morning," 
he  said ;  and  Harry  making  no  answer,  he 
seemed  suddenly  to  be  struck  with  his  attitude. 
He  looked  curiously  at  him  a  moment,  and 


THE  ENEMY  IN  THE  HOUSEHOLD.      235 

then  lapsed  into  silence.  "Harry  wants 
money."  That  was  his  first  thought,  and  he 
began  to  calculate  how  far  he  was  able  to  meet 
the  want.  Even  then,  his  only  bitter  reflec 
tion  was,  that  Harry  should  suppose  it  neces 
sary  to  be  glum  about  it.  "  A  cheerful  asker  is 
the  next  thing  to  a  cheerful  giver ; "  and  to 
such  musings  he  filled  his  pipe,  and  with  a 
shadow  of  offence  on  his  large  ruddy  face  went 
into  "  the  master's  room  "  to  smoke. 

When  kindly  good-nature  is  snubbed,  it  feels 
it  keenly ;  and  there  was  a  mist  of  tears  in  the 
squire's  blue  eyes  when  Harry  followed,  and  he 
turned  them  on  him.  And  it  was  part  of  his 
punishment,  that,  even  in  the  first  flush  of 
the  pleasure  of  his  sin,  he  felt  all  the  pangs  of 
remorse. 

"  Father  ? " 

"  Well,  well,  Harry !  I  see  you  are  wanting 
money  again." 

"  It  will  be  the  last  time.  I  am  married,  and 
am  going  to  Italy  to  live." 

"Eh?  What?"  The  squire  flushed  hotly. 
His  hand  shook,  his  long  clay  pipe  fell  to  the 
hearthstone,  and  was  shattered  to  pieces." 

Then    a   reckless  desire  to   have   the  whole 


236  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

wrong  out  urged  the  unhappy  son  to  a  most 
cruel  distinctness  of  detail.  Without  wasting 
a  word  in  explanation  or  excuse,  he  stated 
broadly  that  he  had  fallen  in  love  with  the 
famous  singer,  Beatrice  Lanza,  and  had  married 
her.  He  spared  himself  or  his  father  nothing ; 
he  appeared  to  gather  a  hard  courage  as  he 
spoke  of  her  failing  health,  her  hatred  of  Eng- 
land>  her  devotion  to  her  own  faith,  and  the 
necessity  of  his  retirement  to  Italy  with  her. 
He  seemed  determined  to  put  it  out  of  the 
power  of  any  one  to  say  worse  of  him  than  he 
had  already  said  of  himself.  In  conclusion  he 
added,  "  I  have  sold  my  commission,  and  paid 
what  I  owed,  and  have  very  little  money  left. 
Life,  however,  is  not  an  expensive  affair  in  the 
village  to  which  I  am  going.  If  you  will  allow 
me  two  hundred  pounds  a  year  I  shall  be  very 
grateful." 

"I  will  not  give  you  one  penny,  sir." 
The  words  came  thick  and  heavy,  and  with 
great   difficulty;    though   the   wretched   father 
had  risen,  and  was  standing  by  the  table,  lean 
ing  hard  with  both  hands  upon  it. 

He  would  not  look  at  his  son,  though  the 
young  man  went  on  speaking.     He  heard  noth- 


THE  ENEMY  IN  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

ing  that  he  said.  In  his  ears  there  was  the 
roaring  of  mighty  waters.  All  the  waves  and 
the  billows  were  going  over  him.  For  a  few 
moments  he  struggled  desperately  with  the 
black,  advancing  tide.  His  sight  failed,  it  was 
growing  dark.  Then  he  threw  the  last  forces 
of  life  into  one  terrible  cry,  and  fell,  as  a  great 
tree  falls,  heavily  to  the  ground. 

The  cry  rang  through  the  house.  The 
mother,  trembling  in  her  bed ;  Charlotte, 
crouching  upon  the  stairs,  fearing  and  listen 
ing  ;  the  servants,  chattering  in  the  kitchen 
and  the  chambers,  —  all  heard  it,  and  were  for 
a  moment  horrified  by  the  agony  and  despair 
it  expressed.  But  ere  the  awful  echo  had  quite 
subsided,  Charlotte  was  at  her  father's  side ; 
in  a  moment  afterwards,  Mrs.  Sandal,  sobbing 
at  every  flying  step,  and  still  in  her  night-cloth 
ing,  followed ;  and  then  servants  from  every 
quarter  came  rushing  to  the  master's  room. 

There  was  no  time  for  inquiry  or  lamenta 
tion.  Harry  and  two  of  the  men  mounted 
swift  horses  in  search  of  medical  help.  Others 
lifted  the  insensible  man,  and  carried  him  ten 
derly  to  his  bed.  In  a  moment  the  atmosphere 
of  the  house  had  changed.  The  master's  room, 


238  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

which  had  held  for  generations  nothing  but 
memories  of  pastoral  business  and  sylvan  pleas 
ures,  had  suddenly  become  a  place  of  sorrow. 
The  shattered  pipe  upon  the  hearthstone  made 
Charlotte  utter  a  low,  hopeless  cry  of  pain. 
She  closed  the  shutters,  and  put  the  burning 
logs  upon  the  hearth  safely  together,  and  then 
locked  the  door.  Alas !  alas !  they  had  car, 
ried  the  master  out,  and  in  Charlotte's  heart 
there  was  a  conviction  that  he  would  never 
more  cross  its  threshold. 

After  Harry's  first  feelings  of  anguish  and 
horror  had  subsided,  he  was  distinctly  resent 
ful.  He  felt  his  father's  suffering  to  be  a 
wrong  to  him.  He  began  to  reflect  that  the 
day  for  such  intense  emotions  had  passed  away. 
But  he  forgot  that  the  squire  belonged  to  a 
generation  whose  life  was  filled  and  ruled  by 
a  few  strong,  decided  feelings  and  opinions  that 
struck  their  roots  deep  into  the  very  founda 
tions  of  existence  ;  a  generation,  also,  which 
was  bearing  the  brunt  of  the  transition  be 
tween  the  strong,  simple  life  of  the  past,  and 
the  rapid,  complex  life  of  the  present.  Thus 
the  squire  opposed  to  the  indifference  of  the 
time  a  rigidity  of  habits,  which,  to  even  small 


THE  ENEMY  IN  THE  HOUSEHOLD.      2$$ 

events,  gave  that  exceptional  character  which 
rarity  once  imparted.  He  felt  every  thing; 
deeply,  because  every  thing  retained  its  impor 
tance  to  him.  He  had  great  reverence.  He 
loved,  and  he  hated.  All  his  convictions  and 
prejudices  were  for  life. 

Harry's  marriage  had  been  a  blow  at  the 
roots  of  all  his  conscious  existence.  The 
Sandals  had  always  married  in  their  own 
county,  Cumberland  ladies  of  honorable  pedi 
gree,  good  daughters  of  the  Church  of  Eng 
land,  good  housewives,  gentle  and  modest 
women,  with  more  or  less  land  and  gold  as 
their  dowry.  Emily  Beverley  would  have  been 
precisely  such  a  wife.  And  in  a  moment,  even 
while  Harry  was  speaking,  the  squire  had 
contrasted  this  Beatrice  Lanza  with  her;  —  a 
foreigner, — an  Italian,  of  all  foreigners  most 
objectionable ;  a  subject  of  the  Papal  States  ; 
a  member  of  the  Romish  Church  ;  a  woman  of 
obscure  birth,  poor  and  portionless,  and  in  ill- 
health  ;  worse  than  all,  a  public  woman,  who 
had  sung  for  money,  and  yet  who  had  made 
Harry  desert  his  home  and  country  and  pro 
fession  for  her.  And  with  this  train  of  thought 
another  ran  parallel,  — the  shame  and  the  wrong. 


240  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

of  it  all.  The  disgrace  to  his  wife  and  daugh- 
ters,  the  humiliation  to  himself.  Each  bitter 
thought  beat  on  his  heart  like  the  hammer  on 
the  anvil.  They  fought  and  blended  with  each 
other.  He  could  not  master  one.  He  felt 
himself  being  beaten  to  the  ground.  He  made 
agonizing  efforts  to  retain  control  over  the 
surging  wave  of  anguish,  rising,  rising,  rising 
from  his  breast  to  his  brain.  And  failing  to 
do  so,  he  fell  with  the  mighty  cry  of  one  who, 
even  in  the  death  agony,  protests  against  the 
victor. 

The  news  spread  as  if  all  the  birds  in  the  air 
carried  it.  There  were  a  dozen  physicians  in 
Seat-Sandal  before  noon.  There  was  a  crowd 
of  shepherds  around  it,  waiting  in  silent  groups 
for  their  verdict.  All  the  afternoon  the  gen 
tlemen  of  the  Dales  were  coming  and  going 
with  offers  of  help  and  sympathy ;  and  in  the 
lonely  parlor  the  rector  was  softly  pacing  up 
and  down,  muttering,  as  he  walked,  passages 
from  the  "Order  for  the  Visitation  of  the 
Sick  "  :  — 

"  O  Saviour  of  the  world,  who  by  thy  cross 
and  precious  blood  hast  redeemed  us,  save  us, 
and  help  us,  we  humbly  beseech  thee,  O  Lord. 


THE  ENEMY  IN  THE  HOUSEHOLD.      241 

"Spare  us  good  Lord.  Spare  thy  people 
whom  thou  hast  redeemed  with  thy  most 
precious  blood. 

"Shut  not  up  thy  tender  mercies  in  dis 
pleasure  ;  but  make  him  to  hear  of  joy  and 
gladness. 

"Deliver  him  from  the  fear  of  the  enemy. 
Lift  up  the  light  of  thy  countenance  upon  him. 
Amen." 


CHAPTER   IX. 

ESAU. 

"  To  be  weak  is  miserable, 
Doing  or  suffering." 

"  Now  conscience  wakes  despair 
That  slumber'd  ;  wakes  the  bitter  memory 
Of  what  he  was,  what  is,  and  what  must  be." 

IT  was  the  middle  of  February  before  Harry 
could  leave  Sandal-Side.  He  had  remained 
there,  however,  only  out  of  that  deference  to 
public  opinion  which  no  one  likes  to  offend ; 
and  it  had  been  a  most  melancholy  and  anxious 
delay.  He  was  not  allowed  to  enter  the  squire's 
room,  and  indeed  he  shrank  from  the  ordeal. 
His  mother  and  Charlotte  treated  him  with  a 
reserve  he  felt  to  be  almost  dislike.  He  had 
been  so  accustomed  to  consider  mother-love 
sufficient  to  cover  all  faults,  that  he  forgot  there 
was  a  stronger  tie ;  forgot  that  to  the  tender 
wife  the  husband  of  her  youth  —  her  lover, 

friend,  companipn  —  is   far  nearer  and   dearer 
242 


ESAU.  243 

than  the  tie  that  binds  her  to  sons  and  daugh 
ters. 

Also,  he  did  not  care  to  give  any  considera 
tion  to  the  fact,  that  both  his  mother  and  Char 
lotte  resented  the  kind  of  daughter  and  sister 
he  had  forced  upon  them.  So  there  was  little 
sympathy  with  him  at  Seat-Sandal,  and  he  fan 
cied  that  all  the  gentlemen  of  the  neighborhood 
treated  him  with  a  perceptible  coolness  of 
manner.  Perhaps  they  did.  There  are  social 
intuitions,  mysterious  in  their  origin,  and  yet 
hitting  singularly  near  the  truth.  Before 
circumstances  permitted  him  to  leave  Sandal- 
Side,  he  had  begun  to  hate  the  Seat  and  the 
neighborhood,  and  every  thing  pertaining  to  it, 
with  all  his  heart. 

The  only  place  of  refuge  he  had  found  had 
been  Up-Hill.  The  day  after  the  catastrophe 
he  fought  his  way  there,  and  with  passionate 
tears  and  complaints  told  Ducie  the  terrible 
story.  Ducie  had  some  memories  of  her  own 
wilful  marriage,  which  made  her  tolerant  with 
Harry.  She  had  also  been  accused  of  causing 
her  mother's  death  ;  and  though  she  knew  her 
self  to  be  innocent,  she  had  suffered  by  the 
accusation.  She  understood  Harry's  trouble  as 


244  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

few  others  could  have  done  ;  and  though  a  good 
deal  of  his  evident  misery  was  on  account  of 
his  separation  from  Beatrice,  Ducie  did  not 
suspect  this,  and  really  believed  the  young  man 
to  be  breaking  his  heart  over  the  results  of  his 
rash  communication. 

He  was  agreeably  surprised,  also,  to  find  that 
Stephen  treated  him  with  a  consideration  he 
had  never  done  when  he  was  a  dashing  officer, 
with  all  his  own  small  world  at  his  feet.  For 
when  any  man  was  in  trouble,  Steve  Latrigg 
was  sure  to  take  that  man's  part.  He  did  not 
ask  too  particularly  into  the  trouble.  He  had 
a  way  of  saying  to  Ducie,  "  There  will  be  faults 
on  both  sides.  If  two  stones  knock  against 
each  other  until  they  strike  fire,  you  may  be 
sure  both  of  them  have  been  hard,  mother. 
Any  way,  Harry  is  in  trouble,  and  there  is  none 
but  us  to  stand  up  for  him." 

But  in  spite  of  Steve's  constant  friendship, 
and  Ducie's  never-failing  sympathy,  Harry  had 
a  bad  six  weeks.  There  were  days  during  them 
when  he  stood  in  the  shadow  of  death,  with 
almost  the  horror  of  a  parricide  in  his  heart. 
Long,  lonely  days,  empty  of  every  thing  but 
anxiety  and  weariness.  Long,  stormy  days, 


ESAU.  245 

when  he  had  not  even  the  relief  of  a  walk  to 
Up-Hill.  Days  in  which  strangers  slighted  him. 
Days  in  which  his  mother  and  Charlotte  could 
not  even  bear  to  see  him.  Days  in  which  he 
fancied  the  servants  disliked  and  neglected 
him.  He  was  almost  happy  one  afternoon 
when  Stephen  met  him  on  the  hillside,  and 
said,  "The  squire  is  much  better.  The  doctors 
think  he  is  in  no  immediate  danger.  You 
might  go  to  your  wife,  Harry,  I  should  say." 

"I  am  glad,  indeed,  to  hear  the  squire  is  out 
of  danger.  And  I  long  to  go  to  my  sick  wife. 
I  get  little  credit  for  staying  here.  I  really  be 
lieve,  Steve,  that  people  accuse  me  of  waiting 
to  step  into  father's  shoes.  And  yet  if  I  go 
away  they  will  say  things  just  as  cruel  and 
untrue." 

But  he  went  away  before  day-dawn  next 
morning.  Charlotte  came  down-stairs,  and 
served  his  coffee ;  but  Mrs.  Sandal  was  watch 
ing  the  squire,  who  had  fallen  into  a  deep  sleep. 
Charlotte  wept  much,  and  said  little  ;  and  Harry 
felt  at  that  hour  as  if  he  were  being  very 
badly  treated.  He  could  scarcely  swallow ;  and 
the  intense  silence  of  the  house  made  every 
slight  noise,  every  low  word,  so  distinct  and 


246          THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE, 

remarkable,  that  he  felt  the  constraint  to  be 
really  painful. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  rising  in  haste,  "  I  may  as 
well  go  without  a  kind  word.  I  am  not  to  have 
one,  apparently." 

"  Who  is  here  to  speak  it  ?  Can  father  ?  or 
mother?  or  I  ?  But  you  have  that  woman." 

"  Good-by,  Charley." 

She  bit  her  lips,  and  wrung  her  hands ;  and 
moaning  like  some  wounded  creature  lifted  her 
face,  and  kissed  him. 

"Good-by.     Fare  you  well,  poor  Harry." 

A  little  purse  was  in  his  hand  when  she  took 
her  hand  away ;  a  netted  silk  one  that  he  had 
watched  the  making  of,  and  there  was  the  glim 
mer  of  gold  pieces  through  it.  With  a  blush 
he  put  it  in  his  pocket,  for  he  was  sorely 
pressed  for  money ;  and  the  small  gift  was  a 
great  one  to  him.  And  it  almost  broke  his 
heart.  He  felt  that  it  was  all  she  could  give 
him,  —  a  little  gold  for  all  the  sweet  love  that 
had  once  been  his. 

His  horse  was  standing  ready  saddled.  'Ost- 
tler  Bill  opened  the  yard-gate,  and  lifted  the 
lantern  above  his  head,  and  watched  him  ride 
slowly  away  down  the  lane.  When  he  had 


ESAU.  247 

gone  far  enough  to  drown  the  clatter  of  the 
hoofs  he  put  the  creature  to  his  mettle,  and 
Bill  waved  the  lantern  as  a  farewell.  Then,  as 
it  was  still  dark,  he  went  back  to  the  stable, 
and  lay  down  to  sleep  until  the  day  broke,  and 
the  servants  began  to  open  up  the  house. 

When  Harry  reached  Ambleside  it  was  quite 
light,  and  he  went  to  the  Salutation  Inn,  and 
ordered  his  breakfast.  He  had  been  a  favorite 
with  the  landlady  all  his  life  long,  and  she 
attended  to  his  comfort  with  many  kindly  in- 
•quiries  and  many  good  wishes.  "  And  what  do 
you  think  now,  Capt.  Sandal  ?  Here  has  been 
a  man  from  Up-Hill  with  a  letter  for  you." 

"  Is  he  gone  ?  " 

"  That  he  is.  He  would  not  wait,  even  for  a 
t>ite  of  good  victuals.  He  was  dryish,  though, 
and  I  gave  him  a  glass  of  beer.  Then  him  and 
his  little  Galloway  took  themselves  off,  without 
more  words  about  it.  Here  it  is,  and  Mr.  Lat- 
rigg's  writing  on  it  or  I  wasn't  christened 
Hannah  Stavely." 

Harry  opened  it  a  little  anxiously ;  but  his 
heart  lightened  as  he  read,  -  - 

DEAR  HARRY,  —  If  you  show  the  enclosed  slip  of 
paper  to  your  old  friend  Hannah  Stavely,  she  will  give 


248  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

you  a  hundred  pounds  for  it.  That  is  but  a  little  bit  of 
the  kindness  in  mother's  heart  and  mine  for  you.  At 
Seat-Sandal  I  will  speak  up  for  you  always,  and  I  will 
send  you  a  true  word  as  to  how  all  gets  on  there.  God 
bless  the  squire,  and  bring  you  and  him  together  again ! 
Your  friend  and  brother, 

STEPHEN    LATRIGG. 

And  so  Harry  went  on  his  way  with  a  lighter 
heart.  Indeed,  he  was  not  inclined  at  any  time 
to  share  sorrow  out  of  which  he  had  escaped. 
Every  mile  which  he  put  between  himself  and 
Sandal-Side  gave  back  to  him  something  of  his 
old  gay  manner.  He  began  first  to  excuse  him 
self,  then  to  blame  others ;  and  in  a  few  hours 
he  was  in  very  comfortable  relations  with  his 
own  conscience ;  and  this,  not  because  he  was 
deliberately  cruel  or  wicked,  but  because  he 
was  weak,  and  loved  pleasure,  and  considered 
that  there  was  no  use  in  being  sorry  when 
sorrow  was  neither  a  credit  to  himself,  nor  a 
compliment  to  others.  And  so  to  Italy  and  to 
love  he  sped  as  fast  as  money  and  steam  could 
carry  him.  And  on  the  journey  he  did  his 
very  best  to  put  out  of  his  memory  the  large,, 
lonely,  gray  "  Seat,"  with  its  solemn,  mys 
terious  chamber  of  suffering,  and  its  wraiths 


ESAU.  249 

and  memories  and  fearful  fighting  away  of 
death. 

But  on  the  whole,  the  hope  which  Stephen 
had  given  him  of  the  squire's  final  recovery  was 
a  too  flattering  one.  There  was,  perhaps,  no 
immediate  danger  of  death,  but  there  was  still 
less  prospect  of  entire  recovery.  He  had  be 
gun  to  remember  a  little,  to  speak  a  word  or 
two,  to  use  his  hands  in  the  weak,  uncertain 
way  of  a  young  child ;  but  in  the  main  he  lay 
like  a  giant,  bound  by  invisible  and  invincible 
bonds ;  speechless,  motionless,  seeking  through 
his  large,  pathetic  eyes  the  help  and  comfort  of 
those  who  bent  over  him.  He  had  quite  lost 
the  fine,  firm  contour  of  his  face,  his  ruddy 
color  was  all  gone ;  indeed,  the  country  expres 
sion  of  "face  of  clay,"  best  of  all  words  de- 
cribed  the  colorless,  still  countenance  amid  the 
white  pillows  in  the  darkened  room. 

As  the  spring  came  on  he  gained  strength 
and  intelligence,  and  one  lovely  day  his  men 
lifted  him  to  a  couch  by  the  window.  The 
lattices  were  flung  wide  open,  that  he  might 
see  the  trees  tossing  about  their  young  leaves, 
and  the  grass  like  grass  in  paradise,  and  hear 
the  bees  humming  among  the  apple-blooms, 


250  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

and  the  sheep  bleating  on  the  fells.  The  earth 
was  full  of  the  beauty  and  the  tranquillity  of 
God.  The  squire  looked  long  at  the  familiar 
sights ;  looked  till  his  lips  trembled,  and  the 
tears  rolled  heavily  down  his  gray  face.  And 
then  he  realized  all  that  he  had  suffered,  he 
remembered  the  hand  that  had  dealt  htm  the 
blow.  And  while  Mrs.  Sandal  was  kissing 
away  his  tears,  and  speaking  words  of  hope 
and  love,  a  letter  came  from  Sophia. 

It  was  dated  Calcutta.  Julius  had  taken  her 
there  in  the  winter,  and  the  news  of  her 
father's  illness  did  not  reach  her  for  some 
weeks.  But,  as  it  happened,  when  Charlotte's 
letter  detailing  the  sad  event  arrived,  Julius 
was  particularly  in  need  of  something  to  won 
der  over  and  to  speculate  about ;  and  of  all 
subjects,  Seat-Sandal  interested  him  most.  To 
be  master  of  the  fine  old  place  was  his  supreme 
ambition.  He  felt  that  he  possessed  all  the 
qualities  necessary  to  make  him  a  leader  among 
the  Dales  gentlemen.  He  foresaw,  through 
them,  social  influence  and  political  power ;  and 
he  had  an  ambition  to  make  his  reign  in  the 
house  of  Sandal  the  era  of  a  new  and  far 
more  splendid  dynasty. 


ESAU.  251 

He  had  been  lying  in  the  shade,  drinking 
iced  coffee,  and  smoking.  But  as  Sophia  read, 
he  sat  upright,  and  a  look  of  speculation  came 
into  his  eyes.  "There  is  no  use  weeping,  my 
love,"  he  said  languidly,  "you  will  only  dim 
your  beauty,  and  that  will  do  neither  your 
father  nor  me  any  good.  Let  us  go  to  Sandal. 
Charlotte  and  mother  must  be  worn  out,  and 
we  can  be  useful  at  such  a  time.  I  think, 
indeed,  our  proper  place  is  there.  The  affairs 
of  the  '  walks  '  and  the  farms  must  be  attended 
to,  and  what  will  they  do  on  quarter-day  ? 
Of  course  Harry  will  not  remain  there.  It 
would  be  unkind,  wrong,  and  in  exceedingly  bad 
taste." 

"  Poor,  dear,  father  !  And  oh,  Julius,  what 
a  disgrace  to  the  family !  A  singer !  How 
could  Harry  behave  so  shamefully  to  us  all  ? " 

"  Harry  never  cared  for  any  mortal  but  him 
self.  How  disgracefully  he  behaved  about  our 
marriage ;  for  this  same  woman's  sake,  I  have 
no  doubt.  You  must  remember  that  I  dis 
approved  of  Harry  from  the  very  first.  The 
idea  of  terminating  a  liaison  of  that  kind  with 
a  marriage !  Harry  ought  to  be  put  out  of 
decent  society.  You  and  I  ought  to  be  at 


2$2  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

Seat-Sandal  now.  Charlotte  will  be  pushing 
that  Stephen  Latrigg  into  the  Sandal  affairs, 
and  you  know  what  I  think  of  Stephen  Latrigg. 
He  is  to  be  feared,  too,  for  he  has  capabilities, 
and  Charlotte  to  back  him ;  and  Charlotte 
was  always  underhand,  Sophia.  You  would  not 
see  it,  but  she  was.  Order  your  trunks  to  be 
packed  at  once, — don't  forget  the  rubies  my 
mother  promised  you,  —  and  I  will  have  a  con 
versation  with  the  judge." 

Judge  Thomas  Sandal  was  by  no  means  a 
bad  fellow.  He  had  left  Sandal-Side  under  a 
sense  of  great  injustice,  but  he  had  done  well 
to  himself;  and  those  who  had  done  him  wrong, 
had  disappeared  into  the  cloud  of  death.  He 
had  forgotten  all  his  grievances,  he  had  even 
forgotten  the  inflicters  of  them.  He  had  now 
a  kindly  feeling  towards  Sandal,  and  was  a 
little  proud  of  having  sprung  from  such  a 
grand  old  race.  Therefore,  when  Julius  told 
him  what  had  happened,  and  frankly  said  he 
thought  he  could  buy  from  Harry  Sandal  all 
his  rights  of  succession  to  the  estate,  Judge 
Thomas  Sandal  saw  nothing  unjust  in  the 
affair. 

The   law  of   primogeniture   had   always   ap- 


ESAU.  253 

peared  to  him  a  most  unjust  and  foolish  law. 
In  his  own  youth  it  had  been  a  source  of  burn 
ing  anger  and  dispute.  He  had  always  de 
clared  it  was  a  shame  to  give  Launcelot  every 
thing,  and  William  and  himself  scarce  a  crumb 
off  the  family  loaf.  To  his  eldest  brother,  as 
his  eldest  brother,  he  had  declined  to  give 
"honor  and  obedience."  "William  is  a  far 
finer  fellow,"  he  said  one  day  to  his  mother ; 
"  far  more  worthy  to  follow  father  than  Launcie 
is.  If  there  is  any  particular  merit  in  keeping 
up  the  old  seat  and  name,  for  goodness'  sake  let 
father  choose  the  best  of  us  to  do  it !  "  For 
such  revolutionary  and  disrespectful  sentiments 
he  had  been  frequently  in  disgrace  ;  and  the  end 
of  the  disputing  had  been  his  own  expatria 
tion,  and  the  founding  of  a  family  of  East- 
Indian  Sandals. 

He  heard  Julius  with  approval.  "  I  think 
you  have  a  very  good  plan,"  he  said.  "  Harry 
Sandal,  with  his  play-singing  wife,  would  have 
a  very  bad  time  of  it  among  the  Dalesmen. 
He  knows  it.  He  will  have  no  desire  to  test 
the  feeling.  I  am  sure  he  will  be  glad  to  have 
a  sum  of  ready  money  in  lieu  of  such  an 
uncomfortable  right.  As  for  the  Latriggs, 


254  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

my  mother  always  detested  them.  Sophia  and 
you  are  both  Sandals ;  certainly,  your  claim 
would  be  before  that  of  a  Charlotte  Latrigg." 

"  Harry,  too,  is  one  of  those  men  who  are 
always  poor,  always  wanting  money.  I  dare 
say  I  can  buy  his  succession  for  a  song." 

"  No,  no.  Give  him  a  fair  price.  I  never 
thought  much  of  Jacob  buying  poor  Esau  out 
for  a  mess  of  pottage.  It  was  a  mean  trick. 
I  will  put  ten  thousand  pounds  at  Bunder's  in 
Threadneedle  Street,  London,  for  you.  Draw 
it  all  if  you  find  it  just  and  necessary.  The 
rental  ought  to  determine  the  value.  I  want 
you  to  have  Seat-Sandal,  but  I  do  not  want  you 
to  steal  it.  However,  my  brother  William  may 
not  die  for  many  a  yeafr  yet ;  those  Dale  squires 
are  a  century-living  race. 

In  accordance  with  these  plans  and  inten 
tions,  Sophia  wrote.  Her  letter  was,  therefore, 
one  of  great  and  general  sympathy ;  in  fact,  a 
very  clever  letter  indeed.  It  completely  de 
ceived  every  one.  The  squire  was  told  that 
Sophia  and  Julius  were  coming,  and  his  face 
brightened  a  little.  Mrs.  Sandal  and  Charlotte 
forgot  all  but  their  need  of  some  help  and  com 
fort  which  was  family  help  and  comfort,  free  of 


ESAU.  255 

ceremony,  and  springing  from  the  same  love, 
hopes,  and  interests. 

Stephen,  however,  foresaw  trouble.  "  Julius 
will  get  the  squire  under  his  finger,"  he  said  to 
Charlotte.  "  He  will  make  himself  indispens 
able  about  the  estate.  As  for  Sophia,  she  could 
always  work  mother  to  her  own  purposes. 
Mother  obeyed  her  will,  even  while  she  re 
sented  and  disapproved  her  authority.  So, 
Charlotte,  I  shall  begin  at  once  to  build 
Latrigg  Hall.  I  know  it  will  be  needed.  The 
plan  is  drawn,  the  site  is  chosen  ;  and  next 
Monday  ground  shall  be  broken  for  the  founda 
tion." 

"There  is  no  harm  in  building  your  house, 
Steve.  If  father  should  die,  mother  and  I 
would  be  here  upon  Harry's  sufferance.  He 
might  leave  the  place  in  our  care,  he  might 
bring  his  wife  to  it  any  day." 

"  And  how  could  you  live  with  her  ? " 

"  It  would  be  impossible.  I  should  feel  as  if 
I  were  living  with  my  father's  —  with  the  one 
who  really  gave  father  the  death-blow." 

So  when  Julius  and  Sophia  arrived  at  Seat- 
Sandal,  the  walls  of  Latrigg  Hall  were  rising 
above  the  green  sod.  A  most  beautiful  site 


256  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

had  been  chosen  for  it,  —  the  lowest  spur  on 
the  western  side  of  the  fell ;  a  charming  pla 
teau  facing  the  sea,  shaded  with  great  oaks,  and 
sloping  down  into  a  little  dale  of  lovely  beauty. 
The  plan  showed  a  fine  central  building,  with 
lower  wings  on  each  side.  The  wide  porches, 
deep  windows,  and  small  stone  balconies  gave 
a  picturesque  irregularity  to  the  general  effect. 
This  home  had  been  the  dream  of  Stephen's 
manhood,  and  Ducie  also  had  urged  him  to  its 
speedy  realization ;  for  she  knew  that  it  was 
the  first  step  towards  securing  for  himself  that 
recognition  among  the  county  gentry  which 
his  wealth  and  his  old  family  entitled  him  to. 
Not  that  there  was  any  intention  of  abandon 
ing  Up-Hill.  Both  would  have  thought  such  a 
movement  a  voluntary  insult  to  the  family 
wraiths,  — one  sure  to  bring  upon  them  disaster 
of  every  kind.  Up-Hill  was  to  be  Ducie's  resi 
dence  as  long  as  she  lived ;  it  was  to  be  always 
the  home  of  the  family  in  the  hot  months,  and 
thus  retain  its  right  as  an  integral  part  and 
portion  of  the  Latriggs'  hearth. 

"  I  have  seen  the  plan  of  Latrigg  Hall,"  said 
Julius  one  day  to  Sophia.  "  An  absurdly  fine 
building  for  a  man  of  Stephen's  birth.  What 


ESAU.  257 

will  he  do  with  it  ?  It  will  require  as  large  an 
income  as  Seat-Sandal  to  support  it." 

"  Stephen  is  rich.  His  grandfather  left  him 
a  great  deal  of  money.  Ducie  will  add  consid 
erably  to  the  sum,  and  Stephen  seems  to  have 
the  faculty  of  getting  it.  My  mother  says  he 
is  managing  three  '  walks,'  and  all  of  them  are 
doing  well." 

"  Nevertheless,  I  do  not  like  him.  '  In-law  ' 
kinsmen  and  kinswomen  are  generally  detesta 
ble.  Look  at  my  brothers-in-law,  Mr.  Harry 
Sandal  and  Mr.  Stephen  Latrigg ;  and  my  sis 
ters-in-law,  Mrs.  Harry  Sandal  and  Miss  Char 
lotte  Sandal ;  a  pretty  undesirable  quartette  I 
think." 

"  And  look  at  mine.  For  sisters-in-law, 
Mahal  and  Judith  Sandal ;  for  brothers-in-law, 
William  and  Tom  Sandal ;  a  pretty  undesirable 
quartette  I  think." 

Julius  did  not  relish  the  retort ;  for  he  re 
plied  stiffly,  "  If  so,  'they  are  at  least  at  the 
other  end  of  the  world,  and  not  likely  to  trou 
ble  you.  That  is  surely  something  in  their 
favor." 

The  first  movement  of  the  Julius  Sandals  in 
Seat-Sandal  had  been  a  clever  one.  "  I  w.-nt 


258  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

you  to  let  us  have  the  east  rooms,  dear 
mother,"  said  Sophia,  on  their  arrival ;  "Julius 
does  feel  the  need  of  the  morning  sun  so 
much."  And  though  other  rooms  had  been 
prepared,  the  request  was  readily  granted,  and 
without  any  suspicion  of  the  motive  which  had 
dictated  it.  And  yet  they  had  made  a  very 
prudent  calculation.  Occupying  the  east 
rooms  gave  them  a  certain  prominence  and 
standing  in  the  house,  for  only  guests  of  im 
portance  were  assigned  to  them  ;  and  the  ser 
vants,  who  are  people  of  wise  perceptions 
generally,  took  their  tone  from  the  circum 
stance. 

It  seemed  as  if  a  spirit  of  dissatisfaction  and 
quarrelling  came  with  them.  The  maids  all 
found  out  that  their  work  was  too  heavy,  and 
that  they  were  worn  out  with  it.  Sophia  had 
been  pitying  them.  "Mrs.  Sandal  does  not 
mean  to  be  hard,  but  she  is  so  wrapped  up 
in  the  squire  she  sees  nothing ;  and  Miss 
Charlotte  is  so  strong  herself,  she  really  ex 
pects  too  much  from  others.  She  does  not 
intend  to  be  exacting,  but  then  she  is ;  she  can't 
help  it." 

And  sitting  over  "a  bit  of  hot  supper"  the 


ESAU.  259 

chambermaid  repeated  the  remark ;  and  the 
housemaid  said  she  only  knew  that  she  was 
traipsed  off  her  feet,  and  hadn't  been  near  hand 
her  own  folks  for  a  fortnight ;  and  the  cook 
thought  Missis  had  got  quite  nattry.  She 
had  been  near  falling  out  with  her  more  than 
once ;  and  all  the  ill-nature  was  because  she 
was  fagged  out,  all  day  long  and  every  day 
making  some  kind  of  little  knick-shaw  or  other 
that  was  never  eaten. 

Not  one  remembered  that  the  Julius  Sandals 
had  themselves  considerably  increased  the  work 
of  the  house ;  and  that  Mrs.  Julius  alone  could 
find  quite  sufficient  employment  for  one  maid. 
Since  her  advent,  Charlotte's  room  had  been 
somewhat  neglected  for  the  fine  guest-cham 
bers  ;  but  it  was  upon  Charlotte  all  the  blame 
of  over-work  and  weariness  was  laid.  Insensi 
bly  the  thought  had  its  effect.  She  began  to 
feel  that  for  some  reason  or  other  she  was  out 
of  favor;  that  her  few  wants  were  carelessly 
attended  to,  and  that  Mrs.  Julius  influenced  the 
house  as  completely  as  she  had  done  when  she 
was  Miss  Sandal. 

She  soon  discovered,  also,  that  repining  was 
useless.  Her  mother  begged  for  peace  at  any 


260  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

cost.  "Put  up  with  it,"  she  said,  "for  a  little 
while,  Charlotte.  .  I  cannot  bear  quarrelling. 
And  you  know  how  Sophia  will  insist  upon 
explaining.  She  will  call  up  the  servants,  and 
"fend  and  prove,"  and  make  complaints  and 
regrets,  and  in  the  long  end  have  all  on  her 
own  side.  And  I  can  tell  you  that  Ann  has 
been  queer  lately,  and  Elizabeth  talks  of  leav 
ing  at  Martinmas.  O  Charlotte !  put  up  with 
things,  my  dear.  There  is  only  you  to  help 
me." 

Charlotte  could  not  resist  such  appeals.  She 
knew  she  was  really  the  hand  to  which  all 
other  hands  in  the  house  looked,  the  heart  on 
which  her  father  and  mother  leaned  their 
weary  hearts ;  still,  she  could  not  but  resent 
many  an  unkind  position,  which  Sophia's  clever 
tactics  compelled  her  to  take.  For  instance, 
as  she  was  leaving  the  room  one  morning, 
Sophia  said  in  her  blandest  voice,  "  Dear 
Charlotte,  will  you  tell  Ann  to  make  one  of 
those  queen  puddings  for  Julius.  He  does 
enjoy  them  so  much." 

Ann  did  not  receive  the  order  pleasantly. 
"They  are  a  sight  of  trouble,  Miss  Charlotte. 
I'll  be  hard  set  with  the  squire's  fancies  to-day. 


ESAU.  26l 

And  there  is  as  good  as  three  dinners  to  make 
now,  and  I  must  say  a  queen's  pudding  is  a  bit 
thoughtless  of  you."  And  Charlotte  felt  the 
injustice  she  was  too  proud  to  explain  to  a  ser 
vant.  But  even  to  Sophia,  complaint  availed 
nothing.  "  You  must  give  extra  orders  your 
self  to  Ann  in  the  future,"  she  said.  "Ann 
accuses  me  of  being  thoughtless  in  consequence 
of  them." 

"  As  if  I  should  think  of  interfering  in  your 
duties,  Charlotte.  I  hope  I  know  better  than 
that.  You  would  be  the  first  to  complain  of 
my  '  taking  on '  if  I  did,  and  I  should  not  blame 
you.  I  am  only  a  guest  here  now.  But  I  am 
sure  a  little  queen  pudding  is  not  too  much  to 
ask,  in  one's  own  father's  house  too.  Julius 
has  not  many  fancies  I  am  sure,  but  such  a 
little  thing." 

"Julius  can  have  all  the  fancies  he  desires, 
only  do  please  order  them  from  Ann  yourself." 

"Well,  I  never!  I  am  sure  father  and 
mother  would  never  oppose  a  little  pudding 
that  Julius  fancies." 

Does  any  one  imagine  that  such  trials  as 
these  are  small  and  insignificant  ?  They  are 
the  very  ones  that  make  the  heart  burn,  and 


262  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

the  teeth  close  on  the  lips,  and  the  eyes  fill 
with  angry  tears.  They  take  hope  out  of  daily 
work,  and  sunshine  out  of  daily  life,  and  slay 
love  as  nothing  else  can  slay  it.  There  was 
an  evil  spirit  in  the  house, — a  small,  selfish, 
envious,  malicious  spirit ;  people  were  cross, 
and  they  knew  not  why;  felt  injured,  and  they 
knew  not  why ;  the  days  were  harder  than  those 
dreadful  ones  when  fire  and  candle  were  never 
out,  and  every  one  was  a  watcher  in  the  shadow 
of  death. 

As  the  season  advanced,  Julius  took  precisely 
the  position  which  Stephen  had  foretold  he 
would  take.  At  first  he  deferred  entirely  to  the 
squire ;  he  received  his  orders,  and  then  saw 
them  carried  out.  Very  soon  he  forgot  to  name 
the  squire  in  the  matter.  He  held  consulta 
tions  with  the  head  man,  and  talked  with  him 
about  the  mowing  and  harvesting,  and  the  sale 
of  lambs  and  fleeces.  The  master's  room  was 
opened,  and  Julius  sat  at  the  table  to  receive 
tenants  and  laborers.  In  the  squire's  chair  it 
was  easy  to  feel  that  he  was  himself  squire  of 
Sandal-Side  and  Torver. 

It  was  a  most  unhappy  summer.  Evils,  like 
weeds,  grow  apace.  There  was  scarely  any  in- 


ESAU.  263 

terval  between  some  long-honored  custom  and 
its  disappearance.  To-day  it  was  observed  as 
it  had  been  for  a  life-time ;  the  next  week  it 
had  passed  away,  and  appeared  to  be  forgotten. 
41  Such  times  I  never  saw,"  said  Ann.  "  I  have 
been  at  Sandal  twenty-two  years  come  Martin 
mas,  but  I'm  going  to  Beverley  next  feast." 

"You'll  not  do  it,  Ann.     It's  but  talk." 

"  Nay,  but  I'm  set  on  it.  I  have  taken  the 
"fastening  penny,'  and  I'm  bound  to  make  that 
good.  Things  are  that  trying  here  now,  that 
I  can't  abide  them  longer." 

All  summer  servants  were  going  and  coming 
at  Seat-Sandal ;  the  very  foundations  of  its 
domestic  life  were  broken  up,  and  Charlotte's 
bright  face  had  a  constant  wrinkle  of  worry  and 
annoyance.  Sophia  was  careful  to  point  out 
the  fact.  "  She  has  no  housekeeping  ability. 
Every  thing  is  in  a  mess.  If  I  only  durst  take 
hold  of  things.  But  Charlotte  is  such  a  spit 
fire,  one  does  not  like  to  offer  help.  I  would  be 
only  too  glad  to  put  things  right,  but  I  should 
give  offence,"  etc.  "  The  poison  of  asps  under 
the  tongue,"  and  a  very  little  of  it,  can  paralyze 
and  irritate  a  whole  household. 

Mowing-time  and  shearing-time  and  reaping- 


264          THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

time  came  and  went,  but  the  gay  pastoral  festi 
vals  brought  none  of  their  old-time  pleasure. 
The  men  in  the  fields  did  not  like  Julius  in  the 
squire's  place,  and  they  took  no  pains  to  hide 
the  fact.  Then  he  came  home  with  complaints. 
"They  were  idle.  They  were  disrespectful. 
The  crops  had  fallen  short."  He  could  not  un 
derstand  it ;  and  when  he  had  expressed  some 
dissatisfaction  on  the  matter,  the  head  man  had 
told  him,  to  take  his  grumbling  to  God  Al 
mighty.  "  An  insolent  race,  these  statesmen 
and  Dale  shepherds,"  he  added;  "if  one  of 
them  owns  ten  acres,  he  thinks  himself  as  good 
as  if  he  owns  a  thousand." 

"  All  well-born  men,  Julius,  all  of  them ;  are 
they  not,  Charlotte  ?  Eh  ?  What  ? " 

"  So  well  born,"  answered  Charlotte  warmly, 
"  that  King  James  the  First  set  up  a  claim  to  all 
these  small  estates,  on  the  plea  that  their  own 
ers  had  never  served  a  feudal  lord,  and  were, 
therefore,  tenants  of  the  crown.  But  the  large 
statesmen  went  with  the  small  ones.  They  led 
them  in  a  body  to  a  heath  between  Kendal  and 
Stavely,  and  there  over  two  thousand  men 
swore,  'that  as  they  had  their  lands  by  the 
sword,  they  would  keep  them  by  the  same.'  So 


ESAU.  265 

you  see,  Julius,  they  were  gentlemen  before  the 
feudal  system  existed ;  they  never  put  a  finger 
under  its  authority,  and  they  have  long  survived 
its  fall." 

"Well,  for  all  that,  they  make  poor  servants." 

"There's  men  that  want  Indian  ryots  or 
negro  slaves  to  do  their  turn.  I  want  free  men 
at  Sandal-Side  as  long  as  I  am  squire  of  that 
name." 

"  They  missed  you  sorely  in  the  fields,  father. 
It  was  not  shearing-time,  nor  hay-time,  nor 
harvest-time  to  any  one  in  Sandal  this  year. 
But  you  will  stand  in  your  meadows  again  — 
God  grant  it ! — next  summer.  And  then  how 
the  men  will  work  !  And  what  shouting  there 
will  be  at  the  sight  of  you !  And  what  a  har 
vest-home  we  shall  have  !  " 

And  he  caught  her  enthusiasm,  and  stood  up 
to  try  his  feet,  and  felt  sure  that  he  walked 
stronger,  and  would  soon  be  down-stairs  once 
more.  And  Julius,  whose  eyes  love  did  not 
blind,  felt  a  little  scorn  for  those  who  could  not 
see  such  evident  decay  and  dissolution.  "  It  is 
really  criminal,"  he  said  to  Sophia,  "to  encour 
age  hopes  so  palpably  false."  For  Julius,  like 
all  selfish  persons,  could  perceive  only  one  side 


266          THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

of  a  question,  the  side  that  touched  his  own 
side.  It  never  entered  his  mind  that  the  squire 
was  trying  to  cheer  and  encourage  his  wife  and 
daughter,  and  was  privately  quite  aware  of  his 
own  condition.  Sandal  had  not  told  him  that 
he  had  received  "the  token,"  the  secret  mes 
sage  which  every  soul  receives  when  the  King 
desires  his  presence.  He  had  never  heard 
those  solemn  conversations  which  followed  the 
reading  of  "The  Evening  Service,"  when  the 
rector  knelt  by  the  side  of  his  old  friend,  and 
they  two  talked  with  Death  as  with  a  compan 
ion.  So,  though  Julius  meddled  much  with 
Sandal  affairs,  there  was  a  life  there  into  which 
he  never  entered. 

One  evening  in  October,  Charlotte  was  walk 
ing  with  Stephen.  They  had  been  to  look  at 
the  new  building,  for  every  inch  of  progress  was 
a  matter  of  interest  to  them.  As  they  came 
through  the  village,  they  perceived  that  Farmer 
Huet  was  holding  his  apple  feast ;  for  he  was 
carrying  from  his  house  into  his  orchard  a 
great  bowl  of  spiced  ale,  and  was  followed  by  a 
merry  company,  singing  wassail  as  they  poured 
a  little  at  the  root  of  every  tree  :  — 


ESAU,  267 

"  Here's  to  thee,  good  apple-tree ! 

Whence  thou  may'st  bud,  and  whence  thou  may'st  blow, 
Whence  thou  may'st  bear  apples  enou' ; 

Hats  full,  caps  full, 

Bushels  full,  sacks  full. 

Hurrah,  then  !     Hurrah,  then ! 

Here's  to  thee,  good  apple-tree ! " 

They  waited  a  little  to  watch  the  procession 
round  the  orchard  ;  and  as  they  stood,  Julius 
advanced  from  an  opposite  direction.  He  took 
a  letter  from  his  pocket,  which  he  had  evidently 
been  to  the  mail  to  secure,  for  Charlotte 
watched  him  break  the  seal  as  he  approached  ; 
and  when  he  suddenly  raised  his  head,  and  saw 
her  look  of  amazement,  he  made  a  little  bravado 
of  the  affair,  and  said,  with  an  air  of  frankness, 
"  It  is  a  letter  from  Harry.  I  thought  it  was 
best  for  his  letters  not  to  come  to  the  house. 
The  mail-bag  might  be  taken  to  the  squire's 
room,  and  who  knows  what  would  happen  if  he 
should  see  one  of  these,"  and  he  tapped  the 
letter  significantly  with  his  long  pointed  fore 
finger. 

"  You  should  not  have  made  such  an  arrange 
ment  as  that,  Julius,  without  speaking  to 
mother.  It  was  cruel  to  Harry.  Why  should 


268  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE, 

the  villagers  think  that  the  sight  of  a  letter 
from  him  would  be  so  dreadful  to  his  own 
people  ? " 

"  I  did  it  for  the  best,  Charlotte.  Of  course, 
you  will  misjudge  me." 

"  Ah !  I  know  now  why  Polly  Esthwaite 
called  you,  'such  a  nice,  kind,  thoughtful  gen 
tleman  as  never  was.'  Is  the  letter  for  you  ? " 

"  Mr.  Latrigg  can  examine  the  address  if 
you  wish." 

"  Mr.  Latrigg  distinctly  refuses  to  look  at  the 
letter.  Come,  Charlotte,  the  air  is  cold  and 
raw ; "  and  with  very  scant  courtesy  they 
parted. 

"What  can  it  mean,  Steve,  Julius  and  Harry 
in  correspondence  ?  I  don't  know  what  to 
think  of  such  a  thing.  Harry  has  only  written 
once  to  me  since  he  went  away.  There  is 
something  wrong  in  all  this  secrecy,  you  may 
depend  upon  it." 

"  I  would  not  be  suspicious,  Charlotte.  Harry 
is  affectionate  and  trusting.  Julius  has  written 
him  letters  full  of  sympathy  and  friendship  ;  and 
the  poor  fellow,  cut  off  from  home  and  kindred, 
has  been  only  too  glad  to  answer.  Perhaps  we 
should  have  written  also." 


ESAU.  269 

"  But  why  did  Julius  take  that  trouble  ?  Julius 
always  has  a  motive  for  what  he  does.  I  mean 
a  selfish  motive.  Has  Harry  written  to  you  ? " 

"  Only  a  few  lines  the  very  day  he  left.  I 
have  heard  nothing  since." 

The  circumstance  troubled  Charlotte  far  be 
yond  its  apparent  importance.  She  could  con 
ceive  of  no  possible  reason  for  Julius  inter 
fering  in  Harry's  life,  and  she  had  the  feeling 
of  a  person  facing  a  danger  in  the  dark.  Julius 
was  also  annoyed  at  her  discovery.  "  It  pre 
cipitates  matters,"  he  said  to  Sophia,  "and  is 
apparently  an  unlucky  chance.  But  chance  is 
destiny,  and  this  last  letter  of  Harry's  indicates 
that  all  things  are  very  nearly  ready  for  me. 
As  for  your  sister,  Charlotte  Sandal,  I  think 
she  is  the  most  interfering  person  I  ever 
knew." 

The  air  of  the  supper-table  was  one  of  re 
serve  and  offence.  Only  Sophia  twittered  and 
observed  and  wondered  about  all  kinds  of  trivial 
things.  "  Mother  has  so  many  headaches  now. 
Does  she  take  proper  care  of  herself,  Charlotte  ? 
She  ought  to  take  exercise.  Julius  and  I  never 
neglect  taking  exercise.  We  think  it  a  duty. 
JTo  time  do  you  say  ?  Mother  ought  to  take 


2/O  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

time.  Poor,  dear  father  was  never  unreason 
able  ;  he  would  wish  mother  to  take  time.  What 
tasteless  custards,  Charlotte !  I  don't  think 
Ann  cares  how  she  cooks  now.  When  I  was  at 
home,  and  the  eldest  daughter,  she  always  liked 
to  have  things  nice.  Julius,  my  dear  one,  can 
you  find  any  thing  fit  to  eat  ? "  And  so  on, 
and  so  on,  until  Charlotte  felt  as  if  she  must 
scream,  or  throw  a  plate  down,  or  fly  beyond 
the  sight  and  sound  of  all  things  human. 

The  next  evening  Julius  announced  his  in 
tention  of  going  abroad  at  once.  "  But  I  shall 
leave  Sophia  to  be  a  little  society  for  mother, 
and  I  shall  not  delay  an  hour  beyond  the  time 
necessary  for  travel  and  business."  He  spoke 
with  an  air  of  conscious  self-denial ;  and  as 
Charlotte  did  not  express  any  gratitude  he 
continued,  "Not  that  I  expect  any  thanks, 
Sophia  and  I,  but  fortunately  we  find  duty  is 
its  own  reward." 

"  Are  you  going  to  see  Harry  ?  " 

"  I  may  do  such  a  thing." 

"Is  he  sick?" 

"No." 

"  I  hope  he  will  not  get  sick  while  you  are 
there."  And  then  some  passionate  impulse 


ESAU.  271 

took  possession  of  her ;  her  face  glowed  like 
a  flame,  and  her  eyes  scintillated  like  sparks. 
"  If  any  thing  happens  Harry  while  you  are 
with  him,  I  swear,  by  each  separate  Sandal 
that  ever  lived,  that  you  shall  account  for 
it!" 

"Oh,  you  know,  Sophia  dear,  this  is  too 
much  !  Leave  the  table,  my  love.  Your  sister 
must  be  "  —  and  he  tapped  his  forehead  ;  while 
Sophia,  with  a  look  of  annihilating  scorn,  drew 
her  drapery  tight  around  her,  and  withdrew. 

"What  did  I  say  ?  What  do  I  think  ?  What 
terror  is  in  my  heart?  Oh,  Harry,  Harry, 
Harry ! " 

She  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  sat 
lost  in  woful  thought,  —  sat  so  long  that 
Phoebe  the  table-maid  felt  her  delay  to  be 
unkind  and  aggravating ;  especially  when  one  of 
the  chamber-maids  came  down  for  her  supper, 
and  informed  the  rulers  of  the  servants'  hall 
that  "  Mrs.  Julius  was  crying  up-stairs  about 
Miss  Charlotte  falling  out  with  her  husband." 

"  Mercy  on  us  !  What  doings  we  have  to 
bide  with  !  "  and  Ann  shook  her  check  apron, 
and  sat  down  with  an  air  of  nearly  exhausted 
patience. 


2/2          THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

"You  can't  think  what  a  taking  Mr.  Julius 
is  in.  He's  going  away  to-morrow." 

"  For  good  and  all  ?  " 

"  Not  he.  He'll  be  back  again.  He  has  had 
a  falling-out  with  Miss  Charlotte." 

"  Poor  lass !  Say  what  you  will,  she  has 
been  hard  set  lately.  I  never  knew  nor  heard 
tell  of  her  being  flighty  and  fratchy  before  the 
squire's  trouble." 

"Good  hearts  are  plenty  in  good  times,  Ann 
Skelton.  Miss  Charlotte's  temper  is  past  all 
the  last  few  weeks,  she  is  that  off-and-on  and 
changeable  like  and  spirity.  Mrs.  Julius  says 
she  does  beat  all." 

"  I  don't  pin  my  faith  on  what  Mrs.  Julius 
says.  Not  I." 

In  the  east  rooms  the  criticism  was  still 
more  severe.  Julius  railed  for  an  hour  ere  he 
finally  decided  that  he  never  saw  a  more  sus 
picious,  unladylike,  uncharitable,  unchristian- 
jike  girl  than  Charlotte  Sandal !  "  I  am  glad 
}o  get  away  from  her  a  little  while,"  he  cried ; 
"how  can  she  be  your  sister,  Sophia?" 

So  glad  was  he  to  get  away,  that  he  left 
Before  Charlotte  came  down  in  the  morning. 
A.nn  made  him  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  received 


ESAU.  273 

a  shilling  and  some  suave  words,  and  was 
quite  sure  after  them  that  "  Mr.  Julius  was 
the  finest  gentleman  that  ever  trod  in  shoe- 
leather."  And  Julius  was  not  above  being- 
gratified  with  the  approbation  and  good  wishes 
of  servants ;  and  it  gave  him  pleasure  to  leave 
in  the  little  hurrah  of  their  bows  and  courtesies, 
their  smiles  and  their  good  wishes. 

He  went  without  delay  straight  to  the  small 
Italian  village  in  which  Harry  had  made  his 
home.  Harry's  letters  had  prepared  him  for 
trouble  and  poverty,  but  he  had  little  idea  of 
the  real  condition  of  the  heir  of  Sandal-Side. 
A  few  bare  rooms  in  some  dilapidated  palace, 
grim  with  faded  magnificence,  comfortless  and 
dull,  was  the  kind  of  place  he  expected.  He 
found  him  in  a  small  cottage  surrounded  by  a 
barren,  sandy  patch  of  ground  overgrown  with 
neglected  vines  and  vagabond  weeds.  The 
interior -was  hot  and  untidy.  On  a  couch  a 
woman  in  the  firm  grip  of  consumption  was 
lying  ;  an  emaciated,  feverish  woman,  fretful 
with  acute  suffering.  A  little  child,  wan  and 
waxy-looking,  and  apparently  as  ill  as  its 
mother,  wailed  in  a  cot  by  her  side.  Signer 
Lanza  was  smokinsr  under  a  fio--tree  in  the 


274          THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

neglected  acre,  which  had  been  a  vineyard  or 
a  garden.  Harry  had  gone  into  the  village  for 
some  necessity ;  and  when  he  returned  Julius 
felt  a  shock  and  a  pang  of  regret  for  the 
dashing  young  soldier  squire  that  he  had 
known  as  Harry  Sandal. 

He  kissed  his  wife  with  passionate  love  and 
sorrow,  and  then  turned  to  Julius  with  that 
mute  look  of  inquiry  which  few  find  themselves 
able  to  resist. 

"  He   is  alive   yet,  —  much  better,  he  says  ; 

and  Charlotte  thinks  he  may  be  in  the    fields 

• 

again  next  season." 

"  Thank  God  !  My  poor  Beatrice  and  her 
baby  !  You  see  what  is  coming  to  them  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  I  am  so  poor  I  cannot  get  her  the 
change  of  air,  the  luxuries,  the  medicines, 
which  would  at  least  prolong  life,  and  make 
death  easy." 

"  Go  back  with  me  to  Sandal-Side,  and  see 
the  squire  :  he  may  listen  to  you  now." 

"  Never  more !  It  was  cruel  of  father  to 
take  my  marriage  in  such  a  way.  He  turned 
my  life's  joy  into  a  crime,  cursed  every  hour 
that  was  left  me." 


ESAU.  27$ 

"  People  used  to  be  so  intense  —  *  a  few 
strong  feelings,'  as  Mr.  Wordsworth  says  —  too 
strong  for  ordinary  life.  We  really  can't  afford 
to  love  and  hate  and  suffer  in  such  a  teetotal 
way  now ;  but  the  squire  came  from  the 
Middle  Ages.  This  is  a  dreadfully  hot  place. 
Harry." 

"  Yes,  it  is.  We  were  very  much  deceived  in 
it.  I  bought  it ;  and  we  dreamed  of  vineyards 
and  milk  and  wine,  and  a  long,  happy,  simple 
life  together.  Nothing  has  prospered  with  us. 
We  were  swindled  in  the  house  and  land.  The 
signer  knows  nothing  about  vines.  He  was 
born  here,  and  wanted  to  come  back  and  be  a 
great  man."  And  as  he  spoke  he  laughed  hys 
terically,  and  took  Julius  into  an  inner  room. 
"  I  don't  want  Beatrice  to  hear  that  I  am  out 
of  money.  She  does  not  know  I  am  destitute. 
That  sorrow,  at  least,  I  have  kept  from  her." 

"  Harry,  I  am  going  to  make  you  a  proposal. 
I  want  to  be  kind  and  just  to  you.  I  want  to 
put  you  beyond  the  need  of  any  one's  help. 
Answer  me  one  question  truly.  If  your  father 
dies,  what  will  you  do  ? " 

"You  said  he  was  getting  better.  For  God's 
sake,  do  not  speak  of  his  death." 


2/6  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

"  I  am  supposing  a  case.  You  would  then 
be  squire  of  Sandal-Side.  Would  you  return 
there  with  Beatrice  ? " 

"  Ah,  no !  I  know  what  those  Dalesmen  are. 
My  father's  feelings  were  only  their  feelings 
intensified  by  his  relation  to  me.  They  would 
look  upon  me  as  my  father's  murderer,  and 
Beatrice  as  an  accessory  to  the  deed." 

"  Still  you  would  be  squire  of  Sandal-Side." 
"  Mother  would  have  to  take  my  place,  or 
Charlotte.  I  have  thought  of  that.  I  could 
not  bear  to  sit  iri  father's  chair,  and  go  up  and 
down  the  house.  I  should  see  him  always.  I 
should  hear  continually  that  awful  cry  with 
which  he  fell.  It  fills,  even  here,  all  the  spaces 
of  my  memory  and  my  dreams.  I  cannot  go 
back  to  Sandal-Side.  Nothing  could  take  me 
back,  not  even  my  mother." 

"Then  listen,  I  am  the  heir  failing  you." 
"  No,  no  :  there  is  my  son  Michael." 
Julius    was   stunned   for   a   moment.      "  Oh, 
yes  !     The  child  is  a  boy,  then  ?" 

"  It  is  a  boy.  What  were  you  going  to 
say  ?  " 

"  I  was  going  to  ask  you  to  sell  your  rights 
to  me  for  ten  thousand  pounds.  It  would  be 


ESAU.  277 

better  for  you  to  have  a  sum  like  that  in  your 
hand  at  once,  than  to  trust  to  dribbling  remit 
tances  sent  now  and  then  by  women  in  charge. 
You  could  invest  that  sum  to  noble  purpose  in 
America,  become  a  citizen  of  the  country,  and 
found  an  American  line,  as  my  father  has 
founded  an  Indian  one." 

"  The  poor  little  chap  makes  no  difference. 
He  is  only  born  to  die.  And  I  think  your 
offer  is  a  good  one.  I  am  so  worn  out,  and 
things  are  really  desperate  with  me.  I  never 
can  go  back  to  England.  I  am  sick  to  death 
of  Florence.  There  are  places  where  Beatrice 
might  even  yet  recover.  Yes,  for  her  sake,  I 
will  sell  you  my  inheritance.  Can  I  have  the 
money  soon  ? " 

"  This  hour.  I  had  the  proper  paper  drawn 
up  before  I  came  here.  Read  it  over  carefully. 
See  if  you  think  it  fair  and  honorable.  If  you 
do,  sign  your  name ;  and  I  will  give  you  a 
check  you  can  cash  here  in  Florence.  Then 
it  will  be  your  own  fault  if  Beatrice  wants 
change  of  air,  luxuries,  and  medicine." 

He  laid  the  paper  on  the  table,  and  Harry  sat 
down  and  pretended  to  read  it.  But  he  did  not 
understand  any  thing  of  the  jargon.  The 


2/8  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

words  danced  up  and  down.  He  could  only 
see  "Beatrice,"  "freedom  from  care,"  "power  to 
get  away  from  Florence,"  and  the  final  thought, 
the  one  which  removed  his  last  scruple, 
"  Lanza  can  have  the  cottage,  and  I  shall  be 
clear  of  him  forever." 

Without  a  word  he  went  for  a  pen  and  ink, 
arid  wrote  his  name  boldly  to  the  deed  of  re- 
linquishment.  Then  Julius  handed  him  a 
check  for  ten  thousand  pounds,  and  went  with 
him  to  the  bank  in  order  to  facilitate  the  trans 
fer  of  the  sum  to  Harry's  credit.  On  the 
street,  in  the  hot  sunshine,  they  stood  a  few 
minutes. 

"  You  are  quite  satisfied,  Harry  ?  " 

"  You  have  saved  me  from  despair.  Perhaps, 
you  have  saved  Beatrice.  I  am  grateful  to 
you." 

"  Have  I  done  justly  and  honorably  by  you?" 

"  I  believe  you  have." 

"  Then  good-by.  I  must  hasten  home. 
Sophia  will  be  anxious,  and  one  never  knows- 
what  may  happen." 

"Julius,  one  moment.  Tell  my  mother  to» 
pray  for  me.  And  the  same  word  to  Charlotte., 
Poor  Charley  !  Sophia  "  — 


ESAU.  279 

"Sophia  pities  you  very  much,  Harry.  So 
phia  feels  as  I  do.  We  don't  expect  people  to 
cut  their  lives  on  a  fifteenth-century  pattern." 

Then  Harry  lifted  his  hat,  and  walked  away, 
with  a  shadow  still  cf  his  old  military,  up-head 
1  manner.  And  Julius  looked  after  him  with 
-contempt,  and  thought,  "  What  a  poor  fellow  he 
is !  Not  a  word  for  himself,  or  a  plea  for  that 
wretched  little  heir  in  his  cradle.  There  are 
some  miserable  kinds  of  men  in  this  world.  I 
thank  God  I  am  not  one  of  them  ! " 

And  the  wretched  Esau,  with  the  ten  thou 
sand  pounds  in  his  pocket  ?  Ah,  God  only 
knew  his  agony,  his  shame,  his  longing,  and 
despair !  He  felt  like  an  outcast.  Yes,  even 
when  he  clasped  Beatrice  in  his  arms,  with 
.promises  of  unstinted  comforts ;  when  she 
kissed  him,  with  tender  words  and  tears  of  joy, 
—  he  felt  like  an  outcast. 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE    NEW   SQUIRE. 

"  A  word  was  brought, 
Unto  him,  —  the  King  himself  desired  his  presence." 

"  The  mystery  of  life 

He  probes ;  and  in  the  battling  din  of  things 
That  frets  the  feeble  ear,  he  seeks  and  finds 
A  harmony  that  tunes  the  dissonant  strife 
To  sweetest  music." 

THIS  year  the  effort  to  keep  Christmas  in 
Seat-Sandal  was  a  failure.  Julius  did  not 
return  in  time  for  the  festival,  and  the  squire 
was  unable  to  take  any  part  in  it.  There  had 
been  one  of  those  sudden,  mysterious  changes 
in  his  condition,  marking  a  point  in  life  from 
which  every  step  is  on  the  down-hill  road  to 
the  grave.  One  day  he  had  seemed  even 
better  than  usual ;  the  next  morning  he  looked 
many  years  older.  Lassitude  of  body  and  mind 
had  seized  the  once  eager,  sympathetic  man  ; 
he  was  weary  of  the  struggle  for  life,  and  had 
given  up.  This  change  occurred  just  before 
280 


THE  NEW  SQUIRE.  28 1 

Christmas ;  and  Charlotte  could  not  help  feeling 
that  the  evergreens  for  the  feast  might,  after 
all,  be  the  evergreens  for  the  funeral. 

One  snowy  day  between  Christmas  and  New 
Year,  Julius  came  home.  Before  he  said  a 
word  to  Sophia,  she  divined  that  he  had  suc 
ceeded  in  his  object.  He  entered  the  house 
with  the  air  of  a  master ;  and,  when  he  heard 
how  rapidly  the  squire  was  failing,  he  congratu 
lated  himself  on  his  prudent  alacrity  in  the  mat 
ter.  The  next  morning  he  was  permitted  an 
interview.  "  You  have  been  a  long  time  away, 
Julius,"  said  the  squire  languidly,  and  without 
apparent  interest  in  the  subject. 

"  I  have  been  a  long  journey." 

"  Ah  !     Where  have  you  been  ?     Eh  ? " 

"To  Italy." 

The  sick  man  flushed  crimson,  and  his  large, 
thin  hands  quivered  slightly.  Julius  noted  the 
change  in  him  with  some  alarm  ;  for,  though  it 
was  not  perhaps  actually  necessary  to  have  the 
squire's  signature  to  Harry's  relinquishment,  it 
would  be  more  satisfactory  to  obtain  it.  He 
knew  that  neither  Mrs.  Sandal  nor  Charlotte 
would  dispute  Harry's  deed ;  but  he  wished  not 
only  to  possess  Seat-Sandal,  but  also  the  good- 


282  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

will  of  the  neighborhood,  and  for  this  purpose 
he  must  show  a  clear,  clean  right  to  the  succes 
sion.  He  had  explained  the  matter  to  Sophia, 
and  been  annoyed  at  her  want  of  enthusiasm. 
She  feared  that  any  discussion  relating  to  Harry 
might  seriously  excite  and  injure  her  father, 
and  she  could  not  bring  herself  to  advise  it. 
But  the  disapproval  only  made  Julius  more 
determined  to  carry  out  his  own  views ;  and 
therefore,  when  the  squire  asked,  "Where  have 
you  been  ?  "  he  told  him  the  truth ;  and  oh,  ho'w 
cruel  the  truth  can  sometimes  be ! 

"  I  have  been  to  Italy." 

"To  see"  — 

"  Harry  ?     Yes." 

Then,  without  waiting  to  inform  himself  as  to 
whether  the  squire  wished  the  conversation 
dropped  or  continued,  he  added,  "He  was  in  a 
miserable  condition,  —  destitute,  with  a  dying 
wife  and  child." 

"Child!     Eh?     What?" 

"  Yes,  a  son  ;  a  little  chap,  nothing  but  skin 
and  bone  and  black  eyes,  —  an  Italian  Sandal." 

The  squire  was  silent  a  few  minutes ;  then  he 
asked  in  a  slow,  constrained  voice,  "  What  did 
you  do  ? " 


THE  NEW  SQUIRE.  283 

"  Harry  sent  for  me  in  order  that  we  might 
discuss  a  certain  proposal  he  wished  to  make 
me.  I  have  accepted  it — reluctantly  accepted 
it ;  but  really  it  appeared  the  only  way  to  help 
him  to  any  purpose." 

"  What  did  Harry  want  ?     Eh  ?     What  ? " 

"  He  wanted  to  go  to  America,  and  begin  a 
new  life,  and  found  a  new  house  there ;  and,  as 
he  had  determined  never  under  any  circum 
stances  to  visit  Sandal-Side  again,  he  asked  me 
to  give  him  the  money  necessary  for  emigra 
tion." 

"  Did  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  did." 

"  For  what  ?  What  equivalent  could  he  give 
you  ? " 

"  He  had  nothing  to  give  me  but  his  right 
of  succession.  I  bought  it  for  ten  thousand 
pounds.  A  sum  of  money  like  that  ought  to 
give  him  a  good  start  in  America.  I  think, 
upon  the  whole,  he  was  very  wise." 

"Harry  Sandal  sold  my  home  and  estate  over 
my  head,  while  I  was  still  alive,  without  a  word 
to  me  !  God  have  mercy !  " 

"  Uncle,  he  never  thought  of  it  in  that  light, 
I  am  sure." 


284          THE  SQUIRE  O2'  SANDAL-SIDE. 

"  That  is  what  he  did ;  sold  it  without  a 
thought  as  to  what  his  mother's  or  sister's 
wishes  might  be.  Sold  it  away  from  his  own 
child.  My  God !  The  man  is  an  immeasur 
able  scoundrel ;  and,  Julius  Sandal,  you  are 
another." 

"Sir?" 

"  Leave  me.  I  am  still  master  of  Sandal. 
Leave  me.  Leave  my  house.  Do  not  enter  it 
again  until  my  dead  body  has  passed  the 
gates." 

"  It  will  be  right  for  you  first  to  sign  this 
paper." 

"  What  paper  ?     Eh  ?     What  ?  " 

"The  deed  of  Harry's  relinquishment.  He 
has  my  money.  I  look  to  your  honor  to  secure 
me." 

"  You  look  the  wrong  road.  I  will  sign  no 
such  paper,  —  no,  not  for  twenty  years  of  life." 

He  spoke  sternly,  but  almost  in  a  whisper. 
The  strain  upon  him  was  terrible  ;  he  was  using 
up  the  last  remnants  of  his  life  to  maintain  it. 

"That  you  should  sign  the  deed  is  only  bare 
honesty.  I  gave  the  money  trusting  to  your 
honesty." 

"  I  will    not   sign  it.     It   would  be  a  queer 


THE  NEW  SQUIRE.  285 

thing  for  me  to  be  a  partner  in  such  a  dirty  job. 
The  right  of  succession  to  Sandal,  barring  Harry 
Sandal,  is  not  vested  in  you.  It  is  in  Harry's 
son.  Whoever  his  mother  may  be,  the  little 
lad  is  heir  of  Sandal-Side;  and  I'll  not  be  made 
a  thief  in  my  last  hours  by  you.  That's  a  trick 
beyond  your  power.  Now,  then,  I'll  waste  no  ' 
more  words  on  you,  good,  bad,  or  indifferent." 

He  had,  in  fact,  reached  the  limit  of  his 
powers,  and  Julius  saw  it ;  yet  he  did  not  hesi 
tate  to  press  his  right  to  Sandal's  signature  by 
every  argument  he  thought  likely  to  avail. 
Sandal  was  as  one  that  heard  not,  and  fortu 
nately  Mrs.  Sandal's  entrance  put  an  end  to  the 
painful  interview. 

This  was  a  sorrow  the  squire  had  never  con 
templated,  and  it  filled  his  heart  with  anxious 
misery.  He  strove  to  keep  calm,  to  husband 
his  strength,  to  devise  some  means  of  protect 
ing  his  wife's  rights.  "  I  must  send  for  Lawyer 
Moser :  if  there  is  any  way  out  of  this  wrong, 
he  will  know  the  right  way,"  he  thought.  But 
he  had  to  rest  a  little  ere  he  could  give  the 
necessary  prompt  instructions.  Towards  noon 
he  revived,  and  asked  eagerly  for  Stephen 
Latrigg.  A  messenger  was  at  once  sent  to 


286  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

Up-Hill.  He  found  Stephen  in  the  barn,  where 
the  men  were  making  the  flails  beat  with  a 
rhythm  and  regularity  as  exhilarating  as  music. 
Stephen  left  them  at  once ;  but,  when  he  told 
Ducie  what  word  had  been  brought  him,  he  was 
startled  at  her  look  and  manner. 

"  I  have  been  looking  for  this  news  all  day : 
I  fear  me,  Steve,  that  the  squire  has  come  to 
*  the  passing.'  Last  night  I  saw  your  grand 
father." 

"Dreamed  of  him?" 

"Well,  then,  call  it  a  dream:  I  saw  your 
grandfather.  He  was  in  this  room ;  he  was 
sorting  the  papers  he  left ;  and,  as  I  watched  his 
hands,  he  lifted  his  head  and  looked  at  me.  I 
have  got  my  orders,  I  feel  that.  But  wait  not 
now,  I  will  follow  you  anon." 

In  the  "  Seat "  there  was  a  distinct  feeling 
of  consummating  calamity.  The  servants  had 
come  to  a  state  of  mind  in  which  the  expecta 
tion  was  rather  a  relief.  They  were  only 
afraid  the  squire  might  rally  again.  In  Mrs. 
Sandal's  heart  there  was  that  resentful  resigna 
tion  which  says  to  sorrow,  "  Do  thy  worst.  I 
am  no  longer  able  to  resist,  or  even  to  plead." 
Charlotte  only  clung  to  her  dream  of  hope, 


THE  NEW  SQUIRE.  28? 

and  refused  to  be  wakened  from  it.  She  was 
sure  her  father  had  been  worse  many  a  time. 
She  was  almost  cross  at  Ducie's  unusual  visit. 

About  four  o'clock  Steve  had  a  long  inter 
view  with  the  squire.  Charlotte  walked  rest 
lessly  to  and  fro  in  the  corridor ;  she  heard 
Steve's  voice,  strong  and  kind  and  solemn, 
and  she  divined  what  promises  he  was  making 
to  the  dying  man  for  herself  and  for  her 
mother.  But  even  her  love  did  not  anticipate 
their  parting  words,  — 

"Farewell,  Stephen.  Yet  one  word  more. 
If  Harry  should  come  back  —  what  of  Harry  ? 
Eh?  What?" 

"  I  will  stand  by  him.  I  will  put  my  hand 
in  his  hand,  and  my  foot  with  his  foot.  They 
that  wrong  Harry  will  wrong  me,  they  that 
shame  Harry  will  shame  me.  I  will  never  call 
him  less  than  a  brother,  as  God  hears  me 
speak." 

A  light  "  that  never  was  on  sea  or  sky " 
shone  in  Sandal's  fast  dimming  eyes,  and 
irradiated  his  set  gray  countenance.  "  Stephen, 
tell  him  at  death's  door  I  turned  back  to 
forgive  him — to  bless  him.  I  stretch — out 
—  my  hand  —  to  —  him." 


288  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

At  this  moment  Charlotte  opened  the  door 
softly,  and  waved  Stephen  towards  her.  "  Your 
mother  is  come,  and  she  says  she  must  see 
the  squire."  And  then,  before  Stephen  could 
answer,  Ducie  gently  put  them  both  aside. 
"  Wait  in  the  corridor,  my  children,"  she  said  : 
"none  but  God  and  Sandal  must  hear  my 
farewell."  With  the  words,  she  closed  the 
door,  and  went  to  the  dying  man.  He  ap 
peared  to  be  unconscious ;  but  she  took  his 
hand,  stroked  it  kindly,  and  bending  down 
whispered,  "  William,  William  Sandal !  Do 
you  know  me  ? " 

"Surely  it  is  Ducie.  It  is  growing  dark. 
We  must  go  home,  Ducie.  Eh  ?  What  ?  " 

"  William,  try  and  understand  what  I  say. 
You  will  go  the  happier  to  heaven  for  my 
words."  And,  as  they  grew  slowly  into  the 
squire's  apprehension,  a  look  of  amazement,  of 
gratitude,  of  intense  satisfaction,  transfigured 
the  clay  for  the  last  time.  It  seemed  as  if 
the  departing  soul  stood  still  to  listen.  He 
was  perfectly  quiet  until  she  ceased  speaking  ; 
then,  in  a  strange,  unearthly  tone,  he  uttered 
one  word,  "Happy."  It  was  the  last  word  that 
ever  parted  his  lips.  Between  shores  he  lin- 


THE  NEW  SQUIRE.  289 

gered  until  the  next  daybreak,  and  then  the 
loving  watchers  saw  that  the  pallid  wintry 
light  fell  on  the  dead.  How  peaceful  was  the 
large,  worn  face !  How  tranquil !  How  dis 
tant  from  them !  How  grandly,  how  terribly 
indifferent !  To  Squire  William  Sandal,  all  the 
noisy,  sorrowful  controversies  of  earth  had 
grown  suddenly  silent. 

The  reading  of  the  squire's  will  made  public 
the  real  condition  of  affairs.  Julius  had  spoken 
with  the  lawyer  previously,  and  made  clear  to 
him  his  right  in  equity  to  stand  in  the  heir's 
place.  But  the  squires  and  statesmen  of  the 
Dales  heard  the  substitution  with  muttered 
dissents,  or  in  a  silence  still  more  emphatic 
of  disapproval.  Ducie  and  Mrs.  Sandal  and 
Charlotte  were  shocked  and  astounded  at  the 
revelation,  and  there  was  not  a  family  in  Sandal' 
Side  who  had  that  night  a  good  word  for  Julius 
Sandal.  He  thought  it  very  hard,  and  said 
so.  He  had  not  forced  Harry  in  any  way. 
He  had  taken  no  advantage  of  him.  Harry 
was  quite  satisfied  with  the  exchange,  and 
what  had  other  people  to  do  with  his  affairs  ? 
He  did  not  care  for  their  opinion.  "  That  for 
it ! "  and  he  snapped  his  fingers  defiantly  to 


THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

every  point  of  the  compass.  But,  all  the  same, 
he  walked  the  floor  of  the  east  rooms  nearly 
all  night,  and  kept  Sophia  awake  to  listen  to 
his  complaints. 

Sophia  was  fretful  and  sleepy,  and  not  as 
sympathetic  with  "  the  soul  that  halved  her 
own,"  as  centuries  of  fellow-feeling  might  have 
claimed  ;  but  she  had  her  special  worries.  She 
perceived,  even  thus  early,  that  as  long  as  the 
late  squire's  widow  was  in  the  Seat,  her  own 
authority  would  be  imperfect.  "  Of  course,  she 
did  not  wish  to  hurry  her  mother ;  but  she  would 
feel,  in  her  place,  how  much  more  comfortable 
for  all  a  change  would  be.  And  mother  had 
her  dower-house  in  the  village;  a  very  com 
fortable  home,  quite  large  enough  for  Charlotte 
and  herself  and  a  couple  of  maids,  which  was 
certainly  all  they  needed." 

Where  did  such  thoughts  and  feelings  spring 
from  ?  Were  they  lying  dormant  in  her  heart 
that  summer  when  the  squire  drove  home  his 
harvest,  and  her  mother  went  joyfully  up  and 
down  the  sunny  old  rooms,  always  devising 
something  for  her  girls'  comfort  or  pleasures  ? 
In  those  days  how  proud  Sophia  had  been  of 
her  father  and  mother !  What  indignation  she 


THE  NEW  SQUIRE.  29 1 

would  have  felt  had  one  suggested  that  the  time 
was  coming  when  she  would  be  glad  to  see  a 
stranger  in  her  father's  place,  and  feel  impa 
tient  to  say  to  her  mother,  "  Step  down  lower ;  I 
would  be  mistress  in  your  room  "  !  Alas  !  there 
are  depths  in  the  human  heart  we  fear  to  look 
into ;  for  we  know  that  often  all  that  is  neces 
sary  to  assuage  a  great  grief,  or  obliterate  a 
great  loss,  is  the  inheritance  of  a  fine  mansion, 
or  a  little  money,  or  a  few  jewels,  or  even  a  rich 
garment.  And  as  soon  as  the  squire  was  in  his 
grave,  Julius  and  Sophia  began  to  discuss  the 
plans  which  only  a  very  shallow  shame  had 
made  them  reticent  about  before. 

Indeed,  it  soon  became  necessary  for  others, 
also,  to  discuss  the  future.  People  soon  grow 
unwelcome  in  a  house  that  is  not  their  own; 
and  the  new  squire  of  Sandal-Side  was  eager  to 
so  renovate  and  change  the  place  that  it  would 
cease  to  remind  him  of  his  immediate  predeces 
sors.  The  Sandals  of  past  centuries  were  wel 
come,  they  gave  dignity  to  his  claims  ;  but  the 
last  squire,  and  his  son  Harry  Sandal,  only 
reminded  him  of  circumstances  he  felt  it  more 
comfortable  to  forget.  So,  during  the  long, 
dreary  days  of  midwinter,  he  and  Sophia  occu- 


292          THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

pied  themselves  very  pleasantly  in  selecting 
styles  of  furniture,  and  colors  of  draperies,  and 
in  arranging  for  a  full  suite  of  Oriental  rooms, 
which  were  to  perpetuate  in  pottery  and  lacquer- 
ware,  Indian  bronzes  and  mattings,  Chinese 
screens  and  cabinets,  the  Anglo-Indian  pos 
sessor  of  the  old  Cumberland  estate. 

Even  pending  these  alterations,  others  were 
in  progress.  Every  family  arrangement  was 
changed  in  some  respect.  The  hour  for  break 
fast  had  been  fixed  at  what  Julius  called  a  civ 
ilized  time.  This,  of  course,  delayed  every 
other  meal ;  yet  the  servants,  who  had  grumbled 
at  overwork  under  the  old  authority,  had  not  a 
complaint  to  make  under  the  new.  For  the 
present  master  and  mistress  of  Sandal  were  not 
people  who  cared  for  complaints.  "  If  you  can 
do  the  work,  Ann,  you  may  stay,"  said  Sophia 
to  the  dissatisfied  cook ;  "  if  not,  the  squire  will 
pay  you  your  due  wages.  He  has  a  friend  in 
London  whose  cook  would  like  a  situation  in 
the  country."  After  which  explanation  Ann 
behaved  herself  admirably,  and  never  found  her 
work  hard,  though  dinner  was  two  hours  later, 
and  the  supper  dishes  were  not  sent  in  until 
eleven  o'clock. 


THE  NEW  SQUIRE,  293 

But,  though  Julius  had  succeeded  in  bringing 
his  table  so  far  within  his  own  ideas  of  comfort, 
in  other  respects  he  felt  his  impotence  to  order 
events.  Every  meal-time  brought  him  in  con 
tact  with  the  widow  Sandal  and  with  Charlotte ; 
and  neither  Sophia,  nor  yet  himself,  had  felt 
able  to  request  the  late  mistress  to  resign  her 
seat  at  the  foot  of  the  table.  And  Sophia  soon 
began  to  think  it  unkind  of  her  mother  not  to 
see  the  position,  and  voluntarily  amend  it.  "  I 
do  really  think  mother  might  have  some  consid 
eration  for  me,  Julius,"  she  complained.  "  It 
puts  me  in  such  a  very  peculiar  position  not 
to  take  my  place  at  my  own  table  ;  and  it  is  so 
trying  and  perplexing  for  the  servants,  —  mak 
ing  them  feel  as  if  there  were  two  mistresses." 

"And  always  the  calm,  scornful  face  of  your 
sister  Charlotte  at  her  side.  Do  you  notice 
with  what  ostentatious  obedience  and  attention 
she  devotes  herself  to  your  mother  ?  " 

"  She  thinks  that  she  is  showing  me  my  duty, 
Julius.  But  people  have  some  duties  toward 
themselves." 

"And  towards  their  husbands." 

"  Certainly.  I  thank  Heaven  I  have  always 
put  my  husband  first."  And  she  really  glanced 


294  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

upwards  with  the  complacent  air  of  one  who 
expected  Heaven  to  imitate  men,  and  "praise 
her  for  doing  well  unto  herself." 

"  This  state  of  things  cannot  go  on  much 
longer,  Sophia." 

"  Certainly  it  cannot.  Mother  must  look 
after  her  own  house  soon." 

"I  would  speak  to  her  to-day,  Sophia.  She 
has  had  six  weeks  now  to  arrange  her  plans, 
and  next  month  I  want  to  begin  and  put  the 
house  into  decent  condition.  I  think  I  will 
write  to  London  this  afternoon,  and  tell  Jeffcott 
to  send  the  polishers  and  painters  on  the  i$th 
of  March." 

"  Mother  is  so  slow  about  things,  I  don't 
think  she  will  be  ready  to  move  so  early." 

"Oh,  I  really  can't  stand  them  any  longer! 
I  can't  indeed,  Sophia,  and  I  won't.  I  did  not 
marry  your  mother  and  sister,  nor  yet  buy  them 
with  the  place.  Your  mother  has  her  recog 
nized  rights  in  the  estate,  and  she  has  a  dower- 
house  to  which  to  retire ;  and  the  sooner  she 
goes  there  now,  the  better.  You  may  tell  her 
I  say  so." 

"You  may  as  well  tell  her  yourself,  Julius." 

"  Do  you  wish  me  to  be  insulted  by  your  sis- 


THE  NEW  SQUIRE.  2$$ 

ter  Charlotte  again  ?  It  is  too  bad  to  put  me 
in  such  a  position.  I  cannot  punish  two  women, 
even  for  such  shameful  innuendos  as  I  had  to 
take  when  she  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table. 
You  ought  to  reflect,  too,  that  the  rooms  they 
occupy  are  the  best  rooms  in  the  house,  —  the 
master's  rooms.  I  am  going  to  have  the  oak 
walls  polished,  in  order  to  bring  out  the  carv 
ings;  and  I  think  we  will  choose  green  and 
white  for  the  carpets  and  curtains.  The  pres 
ent  furniture  is  dreadfully  old-fashioned,  and 
horribly  full  of  old  memories." 

"Well,  then,  I  shall  give  mother  to  under 
stand  that  we  expect  to  make  these  changes 
very  soon." 

"Depend  upon  it,  the  sooner  your  mother 
and  Charlotte  go  to  their  own  house,  the  better 
for  all  parties.  For,  if  we  do  not  insist  upon  it, 
they  will  stay  and  stay,  until  that  Latrigg  young 
man  has  his  house  finished.  Then  Charlotte 
will  expect  to  be  married  from  here,  and  we 
shall  have. all  the  trouble  and  expense  of  the 
affair.  Oh,  I  tell  you,  Sophia,  I  see  through 
the  whole  plan  !  But  reckoning  without  me, 
and  reckoning  with  me,  are  different  things." 

This  conversation  took   place   after  a  most 


296          THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

unpleasant  lunch.  Julius  had  come  to  it  in  a 
fretful,  hypercritical  mood.  He  had  been  calcu 
lating  what  his  proposed  changes  would  cost, 
and  the  sum  total  had  given  him  a  slight  shock. 
He  was  like  many  extravagant  people,  subject 
to  passing  spells  of  almost  contemptible  econ 
omy  ;  and  at  that  hour  the  proposed  future  out 
lay  of  thousands  did  not  trouble  him  so  much 
as  the  actual  penny-half-penny  value  of  his 
mother-in-law's  lunch. 

He  did  not  say  so,  but  in  some  way  the  feel 
ing  permeated  the  table.  The  widow  pushed 
her  plate  aside,  and  sipped  her  glass  of  wine  in 
silence.  Charlotte  took  a  pettish  pleasure  in 
refusing  what  she  felt  she  was  unwelcome  to. 
Both  left  the  table  before  Julius  and  Sophia  had 
finished  their  meal ;  and  both,  as  soon  as  they 
reached  their  rooms,  turned  to  each  other  with 
faces  hot  with  indignation,  and  hearts  angry 
with  a  sense  of  shameful  unkindness. 

Charlotte  spoke  first.  "  What  is  to  be  done, 
mother?  I  cannot  see  you  insulted,  meal  after 
meal,  in  this  way.  Let  us  go  at  once.  I  have 
told  you  it  would  come  to  this.  We  ought  to 
have  moved  immediately,  —  just  as  soon  as 
Julius  came  here  as  master." 


THE  NEW  SQUIRE.  297 

"  My  house  in  the  village  has  been  empty  for 
three  years.  It  is  cold  and  damp.  It  needs 
attention  of  every  kind.  If  we  could  only  stay 
here  until  Stephen's  house  was  finished :  then, 
you  could  be  married." 

"  O  mother  dear,  that  is  not  possible  !  You 
know  Steve  and  I  cannot  marry  until  father  has 
been  dead  at  least  a  year.  It  would  be  an  in 
sult  to  father  to  have  a  wedding  in  his  mourning 
year." 

"  If  your  father  knows  any  thing,  Charlotte, 
he  knows  the  trouble  we  are  in.  He  would 
count  it  no  insult." 

"  But  all  through  the  Dales  it  would  be  a 
shame  to  us.  Steve  and  I  would  not  like  to 
begin  life  with  the  ill  words  or  ill  thoughts  of 
our  neighbors." 

"What  shall  I  do?  Charlotte,  dear,  what 
shall  I  do  ?  " 

"  Let  us  go  to  our  own  home.  Better  to 
brave  a  little  damp  and  discomfort  than  con 
stant  humiliation." 

"  This  is  my  home,  my  own  dear  home  !  It 
is  full  of  memories  of  your  father  and  Harry." 

"  O  mother,  I  should  think  you  would  want 
to  forget  Harry  ! " 


298  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

"  No,  no,  no  !  I  want  to  remember  him  every 
hour  of  the  day  and  night.  How  could  I  pray 
for  him,  if  I  forgot  him  ?  Little  you  know  how 
.a  mother  loves,  Charlotte.  His  father  forgave 
him :  shall  I  be  less  pitiful  ? —  I,  who  nursed  him 
at  my  breast,  and  carried  him  in  my  arms." 

Charlotte  did  not  answer.  She  was  touched 
by  her  mother's  fidelity,  and  she  found  in  her 
•own  heart  a  feeling  much  akin  to  it.  Their 
•conversation  reverted  to  their  unhappy  position, 
and  to  the  difficulty  of  making  an  immediate 
•change.  For  not  only  was  the  dower-house  in 
an  untenantable  state,  but  the  weather  was  very 
much  against  them.  The  gray  weather,  the 
gloomy  sky,  the  monotonous  rains,  the  melting 
snow,  the  spiteful  east  wind, — by  all  this  en 
mity  of  the  elements,  as  well  as  by  the  enmity 
in  the  household,  the  poor  bereaved  lady  was 
saddened  and  controlled. 

The  wretched  conversation  was  followed  by  9 
most  unhappy  silence.  Both  hearts  were  brood- 
ing  over  their  slights  and  wrongs.  Day  by  day 
Charlotte's  life  had  grown  harder  to  bear.  So< 
phia's  little  flaunts  and  dissents,  her  astonish 
ments  and  corrections,  were  almost  as  cruel  as 
the  open  hatred  of  Julius,  his  silence,  his  lower- 


THE  NEW  SQUIRE.  299 

ing  brows,  and  insolence  of  proprietorship.  To 
these  things  she  had  to  add  the  intangible  con 
tempt  of  servants,  and  the  feeling  of  constraint 
in  the  house  where  she  had  been  the  beloved 
child  and  the  one  in  authority.  Also  she  found 
the  insolence  which  Stephen  had  to  brave  every 
time  he  called  upon  her  just  as  difficult  to  bear 
as  were  her  own  peculiar  slights.  Julius  had 
ceased  to  recognize  him,  had  ceased  to  speak  of 
him  except  as  "that  person."  Every  visit  he 
made  Charlotte  was  the  occasion  of  some  petty 
impertinence,  some  unmistakable  assurance 
that  his  presence  was  offensive  to  the  master 
of  Seat-Sandal. 

All  these  things  troubled  the  mother  also, 
but  her  bitterest  pang  was  the  cruelty  of  Sophia. 
A  slow,  silent  process  of  alienation  had  been 
going  on  in  the  girl  ever  since  her  engagement 
to  Julius :  it  had  first  touched  her  thoughts, 
then  her  feelings ;  now  its  blighting  influence 
had  deteriorated  her  whole  nature.  And  in  her 
mother's  heart  there  were  sad  echoes  of  that 
bitter  cry  that  comes  down  from  age  to  age, 
"Oh,  my  son  Absalom,  Absalom!  My  son,  my 
son ! " 

"  O  Sophia !  oh,  my  child,  my  child !     How 


3OO          THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

can  you  treat  me  so  ?  What  have  I  done  ? " 
She  was  murmuring  such  words  to  herself  when 
the  door  was  opened,  and  Sophia  entered.  It 
was  characteristic  of  the  woman  that  she  did 
not  knock  ere  entering.  She  had  always  jeal 
ously  guarded  her  rights  to  the  solitude  of  her 
own  room  ;  and,  even  when  she  was  a  school-girl» 
it  had  been  an  understood  household  regulation 
that  no  one  was  to  enter  it  without  knocking. 
But  now  that  she  was  mistress  of  all  the  rooms 
in  Seat-Sandal,  she  ignored  the  simple  courtesy 
towards  others.  Consequently,  when  she  en 
tered,  she  saw  the  tears  in  her  mother's  eyes. 
They  only  angered  her.  "Why  should  the 
sorrows  of  others  darken  her  happy  home  ? " 
Sophia  was  one  of  those  women  whom  long 
regrets  fatigue.  As  for  her  father,  she  re 
flected,  "that  he  had  been  well  nursed,  deco 
rously  buried,  and  that  every  propriety  had 
been  attended  to.  It  was,  in  her  opinion,  high 
time  that  the  living  —  Julius  and  herself  — 
should  be  thought  of."  The  stated  events  of 
life  —  its  regular  meals,  its  trivial  pleasures  — 
had  quite  rilled  any  void  in  her  existence  made 
by  her  father's  death.  If  he  had  come  back  to 
earth,  if  some  one  had  said  to  her,  "  He  is  here," 


THE  NEW  SQUIRE.  3OI 

she  would  have  been  far  more  embarrassed  than 
delighted.  The  worldly  advantages  built  upon 
the  extinction  of  a  great  love !  Sophia  could 
contemplate  them  without  a  blush. 

She  came  forward,  shivering  slightly,  and 
stirred  the  fire.  "How  cold  and  dreary  you 
are !  Mother,  why  don't  you  cheer  up  and  do 
something  ?  It  would  be  better  for  you  than 
moping  on  the  sofa." 

"Suppose  Julius  had  died  six  weeks  ago, 
would  you  think  of  'cheering  up,'  Sophia?" 

"  Charlotte,  what  a  shameful  thing  to  say  !  " 

"Precisely  what  you  have  just  said  to 
mother." 

"  Supposing  Julius  dead  !  I  never  heard 
such  a  cruel  thing.  I  dare  say  it  would  delight 
you." 

"  No,  it  would  not ;  for  Julius  is  not  fit  to 
die." 

"Mother,  I  will  not  be  insulted  in  my  own 
house  in  such  a  way.  Speak  to  Charlotte,  or 
I  must  tell  Julius." 

"  What  have  you  come  to  say,  Sophia  ?  " 

"I  came  to  talk  pleasantly,  to  see  you, 
and"  — 

"  You  saw  me   an   hour  or  two   since,  and 


302  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

were  very  rude  and  unkind.     But  if  you  regret 
it,  my  dear,  it  is  forgiven." 

"  I  do  not  know  what  there  is  to  forgive. 
But  really,  Charlotte  and  you  seem  so  com 
pletely  unhappy  and  dissatisfied  here,  that  I 
should  think  you  would  make  a  change." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  wish  me  to  go  ?  " 

"If  you  put  words  into  my  mouth." 

"  It  is  not  worth  while  affecting  either  regret 
or  offence,  Sophia.  How  soon  do  you  wish  us 
to  leave  ? " 

The  dowager  mistress  of  Sandal-Side  had 
stood  up  as  she  asked  the  question.  She  was 
quite  calm,  and  her  manner  even  cold  and 
indifferent.  "  If  you  wish  us  to  go  to-day,  it 
is  still  possible.  I  can  walk  as  far  as  the 
rectory.  For  your  father's  sake,  the  rector 
will  make  us  welcome.  —  Charlotte,  my  bonnet 
and  cloak ! " 

"  Mother !  I  think  such  threats  very  un 
called  for.  What  will  people  say  ?  And  how 
can  poor  Julius  defend  himself  against  two 
ladies?  I  call  it  taking  advantage  of  us." 

" '  Taking  advantage  ? '  Oh,  no  !  Oh,  no  !  — 
Charlotte,  my  dear,  give  me  my  cloak." 

The  little  lady  was  not  to  be  either  fright- 


THE  NEW  SQUIRE.  303. 

ened  or  entreated  ;  and  she  deigned  Julius  — 
who  had  been  hastily  summoned  by  Sophia 
—  no  answer,  either  to  his  arguments  or  his 
apologies. 

"  It  is  enough,"  she  cried,  with  a  slight 
quiver  in  her  voice,  "  it  is  enough  !  You  turn, 
me  out  of  the  home  he  gave  me.  Do  you 
think  that  the  dead  see  not?  know  not? 
You  will  find  out,  you  will  find  out."  And  so, 
leaning  upon  Charlotte's  arm,  she  walked 
slowly  down  the  stairway,  and  into  the  drip 
ping,  soaking,  gloomy  afternoon.  It  was  indeed 
wretched  weather.  A  thick  curtain  of  mist 
filled  all  the  atmosphere,  and  made  of  daylight 
only  a  diluted  darkness,  in  which  it  was  hard 
to  distinguish  the  skeletons  of  the  trees  which 
winter  had  stripped.  The  mountains  had  dis 
appeared  ;  there  was  no  sky ;  a  veil  of  chilling 
moisture  and  depressing  gloom  was  over  every 
thing.  But  neither  Charlotte  nor  her  mother 
was  at  that  hour  conscious  of  such  inoffen 
sive  disagreeables.  They  were  trembling  with 
anger  and  sorrow.  In  a  moment  such  a  great 
event  had  happened,  one  utterly  unconceived 
of,  and  unprepared  for.  Half  an  hour  pre 
vious,  the  unhappy  mother  had  dreaded  the 


304          THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

breaking  away  from  her  old  life,  and  had 
declined  to  discuss  with  Charlotte  any  plan 
tending  to  such  a  consummation.  Then,  sud 
denly,  she  had  taken  a  step  more  decided  and 
unusual  than  had  ever  entered  Charlotte's 
mind. 

The  footpath  through  the  park  was  very 
wet  and  muddy.  Every  branch  dropped  water. 
They  were  a  little  frightened  at  what  they 
were  doing,  and  their  hearts  were  troubled  by 
many  complex  emotions.  But  fortunately  the 
walk  was  a  short  one,  and  the  shortest  way 
to  the  rectory  lay  directly  through  the  church 
yard.  Without  a  word  Mrs.  Sandal  took  it ; 
and  without  a  word  she  turned  aside  at  a 
certain  point,  and  through  the  long,  rank, 
withered  grasses  walked  straight  to  the  squire's 
grave.  It  was  yet  quite  bare ;  the  snow  had 
melted  away,  and  it  had  a  look  as  desolate  as 
her  own  heart.  She  stood  a  few  minutes 
speechless  by  its  side ;  but  the  painfully  tight 
clasp  in  which  she  held  Charlotte's  hand  ex 
pressed  better  than  any  words  could  have  done 
the  tension  of  feeling,  the  passion  of  emotion, 
which  dominated  her.  And  Charlotte  felt  that 
silence  was  her  mother's  safety.  If  she  spoke, 


THE  NEW  SQUIRE.  305 

she  would  weep,  perhaps  break  down  com 
pletely,  and  be  unable  to  reach  the  shelter  of 
the  rectory. 

The  rector  was  walking  about  his  study. 
He  saw  the  two  female  forms  passing  through 
the  misty  graveyard,  and  up  to  his  own  front 
door;  but  that  they  were  Mrs.  Sandal  and 
Charlotte  Sandal,  was  a  supposition  beyond  the 
range  of  his  life's  probabilities.  So,  when  they 
entered  his  room,  he  was  for  the  moment  as 
tounded  ;  but  how  much  more  so,  when  Char 
lotte,  seeing  her  mother  unable  to  frame  a 
word,  said,  "  We  have  come  to  you  for  shelter 
and  protection  " ! 

Then  Mrs.  Sandal  began  to  sob  hysterically ; 
and  the  rector  called  his  housekeeper,  and  the 
best  rooms  were  quickly  opened  and  warmed, 
and  the  sorrowful,  weary  lady  lay  down  to 
rest  in  their  comfort  and  seclusion.  Charlotte 
did  not  find  their  friend  as  unprepared  for 
the  event  as  she  supposed  likely.  Private  mat 
ters  sift  through  the  public  mind  in  a  way  be 
yond  all  explanation,  and  "  There  had  been  a 
general  impression,"  he  said,  "that  the  late 
squire's  widow  was  very  ill  done  to  by  the  new 
squire." 


306  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

Charlotte  did  not  spare  the  new  squire.  All 
his  petty  ways  of  annoying  her  mother  and  her 
self  and  Stephen  ;  all  his  small  economies  about 
their  fire  and  food  and  comforts  ;  all  his  scornful 
contempt  for  their  household  ways  and  tradi 
tions  ;  all  that  she  knew  regarding  his  purchase 
of  Harry's  rights,  and  its  ruthless  revelation  to 
her  dying  father,  —  all  that  she  knew  wrong  of 
Julius,  she  told.  It  was  a  relief  to  do  it.  While 
he  had  been  their  guest,  and  afterwards  while 
they  had  been  his  guests,  her  mouth  had  been 
closed.  Week  after  week  she  had  suffered  in 
silence.  The  long-restrained  tide  of  wrong 
flowed  from  her  lips  with  a  strange,  pathetic 
eloquence ;  and,  as  the  rector  held  her  hands, 
his  own  were  wet  with  her  fast-falling  tears. 
At  last  she  laid  her  head  against  his  shoulder, 
and  wept  as  if  her  heart  would  break.  "  He 
has  been  our  ruin,"  she  cried,  "our  evil  angel. 
He  has  used  Harry's  folly  and  father's  good 
ness  and  Sophia's  love  —  all  of  them  —  for  his 
own  selfish  ends." 

"  He  is  a  bad  one.  He  should  be  hanged, 
and  cheap  at  it !  Hear  him,  talking  of  having 
lived  so  often !  God  have  mercy !  He  is  not 
worthy  of  one  life,  let  alone  of  two." 


THE  NEW  SQUIRE.  3O/ 

At  this  juncture,  Julius  himself  entered  the 
room.  Neither  of  its  occupants  had  heard  his 
arrival,  and  he  saw  Charlotte  in  the  abandon  of 
her  grief  and  anger.  She  would  have  risen,  but 
the  rector  would  not  let  her.  "  Sit  still,  Char 
lotte,"  he  said.  "  He  has  done  his  do,  and 
you  need  not  fear  him  any  more.  And  dry 
your  tears,  my  dearie ;  learn  while  you  are 
young  to  squander  nothing,  not  even  grief." 
Then  he  turned  to  Julius,  and  gave  him  one  of 
those  looks  which  go  through  all  disguises  into 
the  shoals  and  quicksands  of  the  heart ;  such  a 
look  as  that  with  which  the  tamer  of  wild  beasts 
controls  his  captive. 

"  Well,  squire,  what  want  you  ?  " 

"  I  want  justice,  sir.  I  am  come  here  to 
defend  myself." 

"Very  well,  I  am  here  to  listen." 

Self-justification  is  a  vigorous  quality:  Julius 
spoke  with  eloquence,  and  with  a  superficial  show 
of  right.  The  rector  heard  him  patiently,  offer 
ing  no  comment,  and  permitting  no  disputation. 
But,  when  Julius  was  finished,  he  answered  with 
a  certain  stern  warmth,  "  Say  what  you  will, 
squire,  you  and  I  are  of  two  ways  of  thinking. 
You  are  in  the  wrong,  and  you  will  be  hard  set 


308  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

to  prove  yourself  in  the  right;  and  that  is  as 
true  as  gospel." 

"  I  am,  at  least,  a  gentleman,  rector ;  and 
I  know  how  to  treat  gentlewomen." 

"  Gentle-man  !  Gentle-sinner,  let  me  say  ! 
Will  Satan  care  whether  you  be  a  peasant,  or  a 
star-and-garter  gentleman  ?  Tut,  tut !  in  my 
office  I  know  nothing  about  gentlemen.  There 
are  plenty  of  gentlemen  with  Beelzebub ;  and 
they  will  ring  all  eternity  for  a  drop  of  water, 
and  never  find  a  servant  to  answer  them." 

"Sir,  though  you  are  a  clergyman,  you 
have  no  right  to  speak  to  me  in  such  a  man 
ner." 

"  Because  I  am  a  clergyman,  I  have  the  right. 
If  I  see  a  man  sleeping  while  the  Devil  rocks 
his  cradle,  have  I  not  the  right  to  say  to  him, 
'  Wake  up,  you  are  in  danger '  ?  Let  me  tell 
you,  squire,  you  have  committed  more  than  one 
sin.  Go  home,  and  confess  them  to  God  and 
man.  Above  all,  turn  down  a  leaf  in  your  Bible 
where  a  fool  once  asked,  'Who  is  my  neigh 
bor?'  Keep  it  turned  down,  until  you  have 
answered  the  question  better  than  you  have  been 
doing  it  lately." 

"  None  of  my  neighbors  can  say  wrong  of  me. 


THE  NEW  SQUIRE.  309 

I  have  always  done  my  duty  to  them.  I  have 
paid  every  one  what  I  owe  "  — 

"  Not  enough,  squire ;  not  enough.  Follow 
on,  as  Hosea  says,  to  love  them.  Don't  always 
give  them  the  white,  and  keep  the  yolk  for 
yourself.  You  know  your  duty.  Haste  you 
back  home,  then,  and  do  it." 

"  I  will  not  be  put  off  in  such  a  way,  sir. 
You  must  interfere  in  this  matter :  make  these 
silly  women  behave  themselves.  I  cannot  have 
the  whole  country-side  talking  of  my  affairs." 

"  Me  interfere !  No,  no  !  I  am  not  in  your 
livery,  squire ;  and  I  won't  fight  your  quarrels. 
Sir,  my  time  is  engaged." 

"  I  have  a  right "  — 

"My  time  is  engaged.  It  is  my  hour  for 
reading  the  Evening  Service.  Stay  and  hear 
it,  if  you  desire.  But  it  is  a  bad  neighborhood, 
where  a  man  can't  say  his  prayers  quietly." 
And  he  stood  up,  walked  slowly  to  his  reading- 
desk,  and  began  to  turn  the  leaves  of  the  Book 
of  Common  Prayer. 

Then  Julius  went  out  in  a  passion,  and  the 
rector  muttered,  "  The  Devil  may  quote  Scrip 
ture,  but  he  does  not  like  to  hear  it  read.  Come, 
Charlotte,  let  us  thank  God,  thank  him  twice, 


3IO  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

nay,  thrice,  not  alone  for  the  faith  of  Christ 
Jesus,  but  also  for  the  legacy  of  Christ  Jesus. 
Oh,  child,  amid  earth's  weary  restlessness  and 
noisy  quarrels,  how  rich  a  legacy,  — 

'  "  Peace  I  leave  with  you.     My  peace  I  give 
unto  you.' " 


CHAPTER   XI. 

SANDAL   AND   SANDAL. 

"  Tine  will  discover  every  thing ;  it  is  a  babbler,  and  speaks  even 
when  1,0  question  is  put." 

"  Ruy,  spindles  1    Run,  and  weave  the  threads  of  doom." 

"\TE5IT  morning  very  early,  Stephen  had  a 
^  *  letter  from  Charlotte.  He  was  sitting  at 
breakfast  with  Ducie  when  the  rector's  boy 
brought  it ;  and  it  came,  as  great  events  gener 
ally  come,  without  any  premonition  or  herald 
ing  circumstance.  Ducie  was  pouring  out 
•coffee ;  and  she  went  on  with  her  employment, 
thinking,  not  of  the  letter  Stephen  was  opening, 
but  of  the  malt,  and  of  the  condition  of  the 
brewing-boiler.  An  angry  exclamation  from 
Stephen  made  her  lift  her  eyes  to  his  face. 
"  My  word,  Stephen,  you  are  put  out !  What's 
to  do  ? " 

"Julius  has  turned  Mrs.  Sandal  and  Charlotte 
from  house  and  home,  yesterday  afternoon. 
They  are  at  the  rectory.  I  am  going,  mother." 

3" 


312  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

"Stop  a  moment,  Steve.  This  is  now  my 
affair." 

Stephen  looked  at  his  mother  with  amaze 
ment.  Her  countenance,  her  voice,  her  whole 
manner,  had  suddenly  changed.  An  expression 
of  angry  purpose  was  in  her  wide-open  eyes  and 
firm  mouth,  as  she  asked,  "  Can  you  or  Jamie, 
or  any  of  the  men,  drive  me  to  Kendal  ? " 

"To-day?" 

"  I  want  to  leave  within  an  hour." 

"  The  rain  down-pours ;  and  it  is  like  to  be 
worse  yet,  if  the  wind  does  not  change." 

"  If  it  were  ten  times  worse,  I  must  to  Ken 
dal.  I  am  much  to  blame  that  I  have  let 
weather  stop  me  so  far  and  so  long.  While 
Dame  Nature  was  busy  about  her  affairs,  I 
should  have  been  minding  mine.  Deary  me, 
deary  me ! " 

"If  you  are  for  Kendal,  then  I  will  drive. 
The  cart-road  down  the  fell  is  too  bad  to  trust 
you  with  any  one  but  myself.  Can  we  stop  a 
moment  at  the  rectory  on  our  road  ? " 

"  We  can  stop  a  goodish  bit.  I  have  a  deal 
to  say  to  the  parson.  Have  the  tax-cart  ready 
in  half  an  hour ;  for  there  will  be  no  betterness 
in  the  weather  until  the  moon  —  God  bless  her? 


SANDAL   AND  SANDAL.  313 

—  is  full  round ;  and  things  are  past  waiting 
for  now." 

In  twenty  minutes  Ducie  was  ready.  The 
large  cloak  and  hood  of  the  Daleswoman 
wrapped  her  close.  She  was  almost  indistin 
guishable  in  its  folds.  The  rector  met  her  with 
a  little  irritation.  It  was  very  early  to  be  dis 
turbed,  and  he  thought  her  visit  would  refer, 
doubtless,  to  some  trivial  right  between  her 
son  and  Charlotte  Sandal ;  besides  which,  he 
had  made  up  his  mind  to  discuss  the  Sandal 
affairs  with  no  one. 

But  Ducie  had  spoken  but  a  few  moments 
before  a  remarkable  change  took  place  in  his 
manner.  He  was  bending  eagerly  forward, 
listening  to  her  half-whispered  words  with  the 
greatest  interest  and  amazement.  As  she  pro 
ceeded,  he  could  scarcely  control  his  emotion ; 
and  very  soon  all  other  expressions  were  lost  in 
one  of  a  satisfaction  that  was  almost  triumph. 

"  I  will  keep  them  here  until  you  return,"  he 
answered;  "but  let  me  tell  you,  Ducie,  you 
have  been  less  quick  to  do  right  than  I  thought 
of  you." 

"The  fell  has  been  a  hard  walk  for  an  old 
woman,  the  cart-road  nearly  impassable  until 


314  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

this  rain  washed  away  the  drifts ;  but  I  did  not 
neglect  my  duty  altogether,  neither,  parson. 
Moser  was  written  to  six  weeks  since,  and  he 
has  been  at  work.  Maybe,  after  all,  no  time 
has  been  lost.  I'll  away  now,  if  you  will  call 
Stephen.  Don't  let  Mrs.  Sandal  '  take  on ' 
more  than  you  can  help ; "  and,  as  Stephen 
lifted  the  reins,  "  You  think  it  best  to  bring  all 
here?" 

"  Far  away  best.  God  speed  you  ! "  He 
watched  them  out  of  sight,  —  his  snowy  hair 
and  strong  face  and  black  garments  making 
a  vivid  picture  in  the  misty,  drippy  doorway, 
—  and  then,  returning  to  his  study,  he  began 
his  daily  walk  up  and  down  its  carpeted  length, 
with  a  singularly  solemn  elation.  Ere  long,  the 
thoughtful  stride  was  accompanied  by  low,  mu 
sical  mutterings,  dropping  from  his  lips  in  such 
majestic  cadences  that  his  steps  involuntarily 
fell  to  their  music  in  a  march-like  rhythm. 

"  Daughter  of  Justice,  wronged  Nemesis, 
Thou  of  the  awful  eyes, 
Whose  silent  sentence  judgeth  mortal  life, — 

Thou  with  the  curb  of  steel, 

Which  proudest  jaws  must  feel, 
Stayest  the  snort  and  champ  of  human  strife. 


SANDAL   AND  SANDAL.  315 

Under  thy  wheel  unresting,  trackless,  all 

Our  joys  and  griefs  befall ; 

In  thy  full  sight  our  secret  things  go  on; 

Step  after  step,  thy  wrath 

Follows  the  caitiff's  path, 
And  in  his  triumph  breaks  his  vile  neck  bone. 
To  all  alike,  thou  meetest  out  their  due, 
Cubit  for  cubit,  inch  for  inch,  —  stern,  true." 

At  the  word  "  true  "  he  paused  a  moment,  and 
touched  with  his  finger  an  old  black  volume 
on  one  of  the  book-shelves.  " '  Stern,  true,' 
whether  Euripides  says  'cubit  for  cubit,'  or 
Moses  'an  eye  for  an  eye,'  or  Solomon  that 
'he  that  troubleth  his  own  house  shall  inherit 
the  wind.'  Stern,  true ;  for  surely  that  which 
a  man  sows  he  shall  also  reap." 

After  a  while  he  went  up-stairs  and  talked 
with  Mrs.  Sandal  and  Charlotte.  They  were 
much  depressed  and  very  anxious,  and  had 
what  Charlotte  defined  "a  homeless  feeling." 
"But  you  must  be  biddable,  Charlotte,"  said 
the  rector ;  "  you  must  remain  here  until  Ste 
phen  returns.  Ducie  had  business  that  could 
not  wait,  and  who  but  Stephen  should  drive 
her  ?  When  he  comes  back,  we  will  all  look  to 
it.  You  shall  not  be  very  long  out  of  your  own 


316  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

home ;  and,  in  the  mean  time,  how  welcome  you 
are  here !  " 

"  It  seems  such  a  weary  time,  sir ;  so  many 
months  that  we  have  been  in  trouble." 

"  It  was  all  night  long,  once,  with  some  tired, 
fearful  ones  '  toiling  in  rowing ; '  but  in  the 
fourth  watch  came  Christ  and  help  to  them. 
It  is  nigh  hand — the  '  fourth  watch '  — with  you  ; 
so  be  cheerful." 

Yet  it  was  the  evening  of  the  sixth  day  before 
Ducie  and  Stephen  returned.  It  was  still  rain 
ing  heavily,  and  Ducie  only  waited  a  moment 
or  two  at  the  rectory  gate.  Charlotte  was 
amazed  to  see  the  old  clergyman  hasten  through 
the  plashing  shower  to  speak  to  her.  "  Surely 
Ducie's  business  must  have  a  great  deal  of  in 
terest  to  the  rector,  mother :  he  has  gone  out 
to  speak  to  her,  and  such  weather  too." 

"  Ducie  was  always  a  favorite  with  him.  I 
hope,  now  that  her  affairs  have  been  attended 
to,  ours  may  receive  some  care." 

Charlotte  answered  only  by  a  look  of  sym 
pathy.  It  had  seemed  to  her  a  little  hard  that 
their  urgent  need  must  wait  upon  Ducie's  busi 
ness  ;  that  Stephen  should  altogether  leave 
them  in  their  extremity  ;  that  her  anxious  in- 


SANDAL   AND  SANDAL.  317 

quiries  and  suggestions,  her  plans  and  efforts 
about  their  new  home,  should  have  been  so 
coldly  received,  and  so  positively  put  aside  until 
Ducie  and  Stephen  came  back.  And  she  had 
a  pang  of  jealousy  when  she  saw  the  rector, 
usually  so  careful  of  his  health,  hasten  with 
slippered  feet  and  uncovered  head,  through  the 
wet,  chilling  atmosphere,  to  speak  to  them. 

He  came  back  with  a  radiant  face,  however, 
and  Charlotte  could  hear  him  moving  about  his 
study;  now  rolling  out  a  grand  march  of  musical 
Greek  syllables  from  Homer  or  Euripides,  anon 
breaking  into  some  familiar  verse  of  Christian 
song.  And,  when  tea  was  served,  he  went  up 
stairs  for  the  ladies,  and  escorted  them  to  the 
table  with  a  manner  so  beaming  and  so  happily 
predictive  that  Charlotte  could  not  but  catch 
some  of  its  hopeful  spirit. 

Just  as  they  sat  down  to  the  tea-table,  the 
svet,  weary  travellers  reached  Up-Hill.  With  a 
sigh  of  pleasure  and  content,  Ducie  once  more 
passed  into  its  comfortable  shelter ;  and  never 
had  it  seemed  to  her  such  a  haven  of  earthly 
peace.  Her  usually  placid  face  bore  marks  of 
strong  emotion  ;  she  was  physically  tired  ;  and 
Stephen  was  glad  to  see  her  among  the  white 


318  THE   SQUIRE    OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

fleeces  of  his  grandfather's  big  chair,  with  her 
feet  outstretched  to  the  blazing  warmth  of  the 
fire,  and  their  cosey  tea-service  by  her  side. 
Always  reticent  with  him,  she  had  been  very 
tryingly  so  on  their  journey.  No  explanation 
of  it  had  been  given  ;  and  he  had  been  permitted 
to  pass  his  time  among  the  looms  in  Ireland's 
mill,  while  she  and  the  lawyer  were  occupied 
about  affairs  to  which  even  his  signature  was 
not  asked. 

As  they  sat  together  in  the  evening,  she  caught 
his  glance  searching  her  face  tenderly ;  and  she 
bent  forward,  and  said,  "  Kiss  me,  Stephen,  my 
dear  lad.  I  have  seen  this  week  how  kind  and 
patient,  how  honorable  and  trustful,  thou  art. 
Well,  then,  the  hour  has  come  that  will  try  thy 
love  to  the  uttermost.  But  wise  or  unwise,  all 
that  has  been  done  has  been  done  with  good 
intent,  and  I  look  for  no  word  to  pain  me  from 
thy  mouth.  Stephen,  what  is  thy  name?" 

"  Stephen  Latrigg." 

"  Nay,  but  it  isn't." 

Stephen  blushed  vividly ;  his  mother's  face 
was  white  and  calm.  "  I  would  rather  be 
called  Latrigg  than  —  the  other  name,  than 
by  my  father's  name." 


SANDAL   AND  SANDAL,  319 

"  Has  any  one  named  thy  father  to  thee  ? " 

"  Charlotte  told  me  what  you  and  she  said  on 
the  matter.  She  understood  his  name  to  be 
Pattison.  We  were  wondering  if  our  marriage 
could  be  under  my  adopted  name,  that  was  all, 
and  things  like  it." 

Ducie  was  watching  his  handsome  face  as  he 
spoke,  and  feeling  keenly  the  eager  deprecation 
of  pain  to  herself,  mingling  with  the  natural 
curiosity  about  his  own  identity,  which  the 
cloud  upon  his  early  years  warranted.  She 
looked  at  him  steadily,  with  eyes  shining 
brightly  through  tears. 

"Your  name  is  not  Pattison,  neither  is  it 
Latrigg.  When  you  marry  Charlotte  Sandal, 
it  must  be  by  your  own  true  name ;  and  that 
is  Stephen  Sandal." 

"  Stephen  Sandal,  mother  ? " 

"  Yes.  You  are  the  son  of  Launcelot  Sandal, 
the  late  squire's  eldest  brother." 

"Then,  mother,  then  I  am —  What  am  I, 
mother?" 

"  You  are  squire  of  Sandal-Side  and  Torver. 
No  living  man  but  you  has  a  right  to  the  name, 
or  the  land,  or  to  Seat-Sandal." 

"  I  should  have  known  this  before,  mother." 


32O  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

"I  think  not.  We  had,  father  and  I,  what 
we  believed  good  reasons,  and  kind  reasons,  for 
holding  our  peace.  But  times  and  circum 
stances  have  changed;  and,  where  silence  was 
once  true  friendship  and  kindness,  it  is  now 
wrong  and  cruelty.  Many  years  ago,  Stephen, 
when  I  was  young  and  beautiful,  Launcelot 
Sandal  loved  me.  And  my  father  and  Launce- 
lot's  father  loved  each  other  as  David  and  Jona 
than  loved.  They  were  scarcely  happy  apart ; 
and  not  even  to  please  the  proud  mistress  Char 
lotte,  would  the  squire  loosen  the  grip  of  heart 
and  hand  between  them.  But  your  father  was 
more  under  his  mother's,  influence  :  proud  lad 
as  he  was,  he  feared  her;  and  when  she  dis 
covered  his  love  for  me,  there  was  such  a  scene 
between  them  as  no  man  will  go  through  twice 
in  his  lifetime.  I  have  no  excuse  to  make 
for  marrying  him  secretly  except  the  old,  old 
one,  Stephen.  I  loved  him,  loved  him  as 
women  have  loved,  and  will  love,  from  the  be 
ginning  to  the  end  of  time." 

"  Dear  mother,  there  was  no  wrong  in  that. 
But  why  did  you  let  the  world  think  you  loved 
a  man  beneath  you  ?  an  uneducated  shepherd 
like  my  reputed  father  ?  That  wronged  not 


SANDAL   AND  SANDAL.  321 

only  you,  but  those  behind  and  those  after 
you." 

"  We  were  afraid  of  many  things,  and  we 
wished  to  spare  the  friendship  between  our 
fathers.  There  were  many  other  reasons, 
scarcely  worth  repeating  now." 

"  And  what  became  of  the  shepherd  ? " 

"He  was  not  Cumberland  born.  He  came 
from  the  Cheviot  Hills,  and  was  always  fretting 
for  the  border  life :  so  he  gladly  fell  in  with  the 
proposal  your  father  made  him.  One  summer 
morning  he  said  he  was  going  to  herd  the  lambs 
on  Latrigg  Fell,  but  he  went  to  Egremont. 
Your  father  had  gone  there  a  week  before  ;  but 
he  came  back  that  night,  and  met  me  at  Raven- 
glass.  We  were  married  in  Egremont  church, 
by  Parson  Sellafield,  and  went  to  Whitehaven, 
where  we  lived  quietly  and  happily  for  many  a 
week.  Pattison  witnessed  our  marriage,  and 
then,  with  gold  in  his  pocket,  took  the  border 
road.  He  went  to  Moffat  and  wed  the  girl  he 
loved,  and  has  been  shepherding  on  Loch  Fell 
•ever  since." 

"  He  is  alive,  then  ? " 

"  He  is  at  the  Salutation  Inn  at  Ambleside 
to-night.  So,  also,  is  Parson  Sellafield,  and  the 


322  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

man  and  woman  with  whom  we  staid  in  White- 
haven,  and  in  whose  house  you  were  born  and 
lived  until  your  fourth  year.  They  are  called 
Chisholm,  and  have  been  at  Up-Hill  many 
times." 

"  I  remember  them." 

"  And  I  did  not  intend  that  they  should  forget 
you." 

"  I  have  always  heard  that  Launcelot  Sandal 
was  drowned." 

"  You  have  always  heard  that  your  father  was 
drowned  ?  That  was  near  by  the  truth.  While 
in  Whitehaven,  he  wrote  to  his  brother  Tom,  who 
was  living  and  doing  well  in  India.  When  his 
answer  came,  we  determined  to  go  to  Calcutta ; 
but  I  was  not  in  a  state  of  health  fit  for  such  a 
journey  as  that  then  was.  So  it  was  decided  that 
your  father  should  go  first,  and  get  a  home  ready 
for  me.  He  left  in  the  'Lady  Liddel,'  and  she 
was  lost  at  sea.  Your  father  was  in  an  open 
boat  for  many  days,  and  died  of  exhaustion." 

"  Who  told  you  so,  mother  ? " 

"  The  captain  lived  to  reach  his  home  again, 
and  he  brought  me  his  watch  and  ring  and  last 
message.  He  never  saw  your  face,  my  lad, 
he  never  saw  your  face." 


SANDAL   AND  SANDAL.  32$ 

A  silence  of  some  minutes  ensued.  Ducie 
had  long  ceased  to  weep  for  her  dead  love,  but 
he  was  unforgotten.  Her  silence  was  not  ob 
livion  :  it  was  a  sanctuary  where  lights  were 
burning  round  the  shrine,  over  which  the  wings 
of  affection  were  folded. 

"  When  my  father  was  gone,  then  you  came 
back  to  Up-Hill  ?  " 

"No  :  I  did  not  come  back«until  you  were  in 
your  fourth  year.  Then  my  mother  died,  and 
I  brought  you  home.  At  the  first  moment  you 
went  straight  to  your  grandfather's  heart ;  and 
that  night,  as  you  lay  asleep  upon  his  knee,  I 
told  him  the  truth,  as  I  tell  it  to  you  this  night. 
And  he  said  to  me,  '  Ducie,  things  have  settled 
a  bit  lately.  The  squire  has  got  over  his  trouble 
about  Launcie;  and  young  William  is  the  ac 
knowledged  heir,  and  the  welcome  heir.  He  is 
going  to  marry  Alice  Morecombe  at  the  long 
last,  but  it  will  make  a  big  difference  if  Launce- 
lot's  son  steps  in  where  nobody  wants  him. 
Now,  then,'  he  said,  '  I  will  tell  thee  a  far  better 
way.  We  will  give  this  dear  lad  my  own  name, 
none  better  in  old  Cumbria ;  and  we  will  save 
gold,  and  we  will  make  gold,  to  put  it  to  the 
very  front  in  the  new  times  that  are  coming. 


324  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

And  he  will  keep  my  name  on  the  face  of  the 
earth,  and  so  please  the  great  company  of  his 
kin  behind  him.  And  it  will  be  far  better  for 
him  to  be  the  top-sheaf  of  the  Latriggs,  than  to 
force  his  way  into  Seat-Sandal,  where  there  is 
neither  love  nor  welcome  for  him.' 

"And  I  thought  the  same  thing,  Stephen  ;  and 
after  that,  our  one  care  was  to  make  you  happy, 
and  to  do  well  to  you.  That  you  were  a  born 
Sandal,  was  a  great  joy  to  him,  for  he  loved  your 
father  and  your  grandfather ;  and,  when  Harry 
came,  he  loved  him  also,  and  he  liked  well  to 
see  you  two  on  the  fells  together.  Often  he 
called  me  to  come  and  look  at  you  going  off 
with  your  rods  or  guns  ;  and  often  he  said,  '  Both 
fine  lads,  Ducie,  but  our  Steve  is  the  finer.'  " 

"  Oh,  mother,  I  cannot  take  Harry's  place  ! 
I  love  Harry,  and  I  did  not  know  how  much 
until  this  hour  "  — 

"  Stop  a  bit,  Stephen.  When  Harry  grew 
up,  and  went  into  the  army,  your  grandfather 
wasn't  so  satisfied  with  what  he  had  done. 
"  Here's  a  fine  property  going  to  sharpers  and 
tailors  and  Italian  singing-women,"  he  used  to 
say ;  and  he  felt  baddish  about  it.  And  yet  he 
loved  Squire  William,  as  he  had  loved  his  father, 


SANDAL   AND  SANDAL  325 

and  Mistress  Alice  and  Harry  and  Sophia  and 
Charlotte  ;  why,  he  thought  of  them  like  his  own 
flesh  and  blood.  And  he  could  not  bear  to 
undo  his  kindness.  And  he  could  not  bear  to 
tell  Squire  William  the  truth,  for  he  knew  well 
that  he  would  undo  it.  So  one  day  he  sent  for 
Lawyer  Moser ;  and  the  two  of  them  together 
found  out  a  plan  that  seemed  fair,  for  both 
Sandal  and  Latrigg. 

"  You  were  to  remain  Stephen  Latrigg,  un 
less  it  was  to  ward  off  wrong  or  ruin  in  Sandal- 
Side.  But  if  ever  the  day  came  when  Sandal 
needed  Latrigg,  you  were  to  claim  your  right, 
and  stand  up  for  Sandal.  Such  a  state  of 
things  as  Harry  brought  about,  my  father  never 
dreamed  of.  He  would  not  have  been  able  to 
think  of  a  man  selling  away  his  right  to  a  place 
like  Seat-Sandal ;  and  among  all  the  villains  he 
ever  knew,  or  heard  tell  of,  he  couldn't  have 
picked  out  one  to  lead  him  to  such  a  villain  as 
Julius  Sandal.  So,  you  see,  he  left  no  special 
directions  for  such  a  case,  and  I  was  a  bit  feared 
to  move  in  too  big  a  hurry ;  and,  maybe,  I 
was  a  bit  of  a  coward  about  setting  every 
tongue  in  Sandal-Side  talking  about  me  and  my 
bygone  days. 


326  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

"But,  when  the  squire  died,  I  thought  from 
what  Charlotte  told  me  of  the  Julius  Sandals, 
that  there  would  have  to  be  a  change ;  and 
when  I  saw  your  grandfather  sorting  the  papers 
for  me,  and  heard  that  Mistress  Alice  and 
Charlotte  had  been  forced  to  leave  their  home, 
I  knew  that  the  hour  for  the  change  had  struck, 
and  that  I  must  be  about  the  business.  Moser 
was  written  to  soon  after  the  funeral  of  Squire 
William.  He  has  now  all  the  necessary  wit 
nesses  and  papers  ready.  He  is  at  Ambleside 
with  them,  and  to-morrow  morning  they  will 
have  a  talk  with  Mr.  Julius  at  Seat-Sandal." 
"  I  wonder  where  Harry  Sandal  is." 
"After  you,  comes  Harry.  Your  grand 
father  did  not  forget  him.  There  is  a  provision; 
in  the  will,  which  directs,  that  if,  for  any  cause 
not  conceivable  by  the  testator,  Harry  Sandal 
must  resign  in  favor  of  Stephen  Sandal,  then, 
the  land  and  money  xlevised  to  you,  as  his  heir, 
shall  become  the  property  of  Harry  Sandal.  In 
a  great  measure  you  would  only  change  places,. 
and  that  is  not  a  very  hard  punishment  for  a 
man  who  cared  so  little  for  his  family  home 
as  Harry  did.  So  you  see,  Stephen,  you  must 
claim  your  rights  in  order  to  give  Harry  his." 


SANDAL  AND  SAND«~.  327 

The  facts  of  this  conversation  opened  up 
^endlessly  to  the  mother  and  son,  and  hour 
.after  hour  it  was  continued  without  any  loss 
•of  interest.  But  the  keenest  pleasure  his  new 
-.prospects  gave  Stephen  referred  itself  to  Mrs. 
;Sandal  and  Charlotte.  He  could  now  reinstate 
them  in  their  old  home  and  in  their  old  author 
ity  in  it.  For  the  bright  visions  underneath 
his  eyelids,  he  could  not  sleep,  —  visions  of 
: satisfied  affection,  and  of  grief  and  humiliation 
•crowned  with  joy  and  happiness  and  honor. 

It  had  been  decided  that  Stephen  should 
•drive  his  mother  to  the  rectory  in  the  morn 
ing,  and  there  they  were  to  wait  the  result  of 
Moser's  interview  with  Julius.  The  dawning 
•came  up  with  sunshine ;  the  storm  was  over, 
the  earth  lay  smiling  in  that  "clear  shining 
after  rain,"  which  is  so  exhilarating  and  full 
of  promise.  The  sky  was  as  blue,  the  air  as 
fresh,  fell  and  wood,  meadow  and  mountain,  as 
clean  and  bright  as  if  they  had  just  come  new 
from  the  fingers  of  the  Almighty.  Ducie  was 
handsomely  dressed  in  dark  violet-colored  satin, 
and  Stephen  noticed  with  pride  how  well  her 
'rich  clothing  and  quiet,  dignified  manner  be- 
•came  her;  while  Ducie  felt  even  a  greater 


328  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

pride  in  the  stately,  handsome  young  man  who 
drove  her  with  such  loving  care  down  Latrigg 
fell  that  eventful  morning. 

Julius  was  at  breakfast  when  the  company 
from  Ambleside  were  shown  into  the  master's 
room  in  Seat-Sandal.  The  lawyer  sent  in  his 
card ;  and  Julius,  who  knew  him  well,  was  a 
trifle  annoyed  by  the  visit.  "  It  will  be  about 
your  mother's  income,  Sophia,"  he  said,  as  he 
viciously  broke  the  egg  he  was  holding ;  "  now 
mind,  I  am  not  going  to  yield  one  inch." 

"  Why  should  you,  Julius  ?  I  am  sure  we 
have  been  blamed  and  talked  over  enough. 
We  never  can  be  popular  here." 

"  We  don't  want  to  be  popular  here.  When 
we  have  refurnished  the  house,  we  will  bring 
our  company  from  Oxford  and  London  and 
elsewhere.  We  will  have  fine  dinners  and  balls, 
hunting-parties  and  fishing-parties ;  and,  de 
pend  upon  it,  we  shall  very  soon  have  these 
shepherd  lords  and  gentlemen  begging  for  our 
favor." 

"  Oh,  you  don't  know  them,  Julius !  They 
would  not  break  bread  with  us  if  they  were 
starving." 

"  Very  well.     What  do  I  care  ? " 


SANDAL   AND  SANDAL.  329 

But  he  did  care.  When  the  wagoners  driv 
ing  their  long  teams  pretended  not  to  hear  his 
greeting,  for  the  jingling  of  their  bells,  he 
knew  it  was  pretence,  and  the  wagoners'  aver 
sion  hurt  him.  When  the  herdsmen  sauntered 
away  from  his  path,  and  preferred  not  to  talk 
to  him,  he  felt  the  bitterness  of  their  dislike, 
though  they  were  only  shepherds.  When  the 
gentlemen  of  the  neighborhood  looked  straight 
before  them,  and  did  not  see  him  in  their  path, 
he  burned  with  an  indignation  he  would  have 
liked  well  to  express.  But  no  one  took  the 
trouble  to  offend  him  by  word  or  deed,  and  a 
man  cannot  pick  a  quarrel  with  people  for 
simply  letting  him  alone. 

Sophia's  opinion  recalled  one  or  two  of  these 
events  that  were  particularly  galling ;  and  he 
finished  his  breakfast  in  a  sulky,  leisurely 
fashion,  to  such  reflections  as  they  evoked. 
Then,  with  a  cigar  in  his  mouth,  he  went  to  the 
master's  room  to  see  Moser.  He  had  been  told 
that  other  parties  were  there  also,  but  he  did 
not  surmise  that  their  business  was  identical. 
Yet  he  noticed  the  clergyman  on  entering,  and 
appeared  inclined  to  attend  to  his  request  first  ; 
but  as  he  courteously  waved  his  claim  away, 


330  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

and  retired  to  the  other  end  of  the  room,  Julius 
said  curtly,  — 

"Well,  Mr.  Moser,  good-morning,  sir." 
The  lawyer  was  pretending  to  be  absorbed  in 
the  captions  of  the  papers  in  his  hand,  for  he 
was  offended  at  being  kept  waiting  so  long; 
"As  if  a  bite  of  victuals  was  of  more  ado  than 
business  that  could  bring  Matthew  Moser  all 
the  road  from  Kendal." 

"Good-morning,  Mr.  Sandal." 
The  omission  of  "Squire,"  and  the  substi- 
tution  of  "Mr.,"  annoyed  Julius  very  much, 
though  he  had  not  a  suspicion  of  the  lawyer's 
errand;  and  he  corrected  the  mistake  with  a 
bland  smile  on  his  lips,  and  an  angry  light  in 
his  eyes.  Moser,  in  reply,  selected  one  par 
ticular  paper,  and  put  it  into  the  hand  of 
Julius. 

"Acting  for  Squire  Sandal,  I  would  be  a 
middling  bad  sort  of  a  lawyer  to  give  you  his 
name.  Eh  ? " 

"You  are  talking  in  riddles,  sir." 
"Eh!     But  I  always   read  my  riddles,   Mr. 
Sandal.     I  am  here  to  take  possession  of  house 
and  land,  for  the  real  heir  of  Sandal-Side." 
"  I  bought  his  right,  as  you  know  very  well. 


SANDAL   AND  SANDAL.  331 

You  have  Harry  Sandal's  own  acknowledg 
ment." 

"  Eh  ?  But  you  see,  Harry  Sandal  never  had  a 
penny-worth  of  right  to  sell.  Launcelot  Sandal 
left  a  son,  and  for  him  I  am  acting.  Eh  ?  " 

"  Launcelot  Sandal  was  drowned.  He  never 
married." 

"  Eh,  but  he  did  !  —  Parson  Sellafield,  what  do 
you  say  about  that  ? " 

"I  married  him  on  July  ir,  18 — ,  at  Egre- 
mont  church.  There,"  pointing  to  Matt  Patti- 
son,  "is  the  witness.  Here  is  a  copy  of  the 
license  and  the  'lines.'  They  are  signed, 
1  Launcelot  Sandal '  and  '  Ducie  Latrigg.'  " 

"  Confusion ! " 

"  Eh  ?  No,  no  !  There's  not  a  bit  of  confu 
sion,  Mr.  Sandal.  It  is  all  as  clear  as  the  mul 
tiplication  table,  and  there  is  nothing  clearer 
than  that.  Launcelot  Sandal  married  Ducie 
Latrigg ;  they  had  ,one  son,  Stephen  Sandal, 
otherwise  known  as  Stephen  Latrigg :  proofs 
all  ready,  sir,  not  a  link  missing,  Mr.  Sandal. 
When  will  you  vacate  ?  The  squire  is  inclined 
to  be  easy  with  you,  and  not  to  back-reckon, 
unless  you  force  him  to  do  so." 

"This  is  a  conspiracy,  Moser." 


332  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

"  Conspiracy  !  Eh  ?  Ugly  word,  Mr.  San 
dal.  An  actionable  word,  I  may  say." 

"  It  is  a  conspiracy.  You  shall  hear  from 
me  through  some  respectable  lawyer." 

"  In  the  mean  time,  Mr.  Sandal,  I  have  taken, 
as  you  will  see,  the  proper  legal  steps  to  pre 
vent  you  wasting  any  more  of  the  Sandal 
revenues.  Every  shilling  you  touch  now, 
you  will  be  held  responsible  for.  Also,"  and 
he  laid  another  paper  down,  "you  are  here 
by  restrained  from  removing,  injuring,  or  in 
any  way  changing,  or  disposing  of,  the 
present  furniture  of  the  Seat.  The  squire  in 
sists  specially  on  this  direction,  and  he  kindly 
allows  you  seven  days  to  remove  your  private 
effects.  A  very  reasonable  gentleman  is  Squire 
Sandal." 

Without  further  courtesies  they  parted  ;  and 
the  deposed  squire  locked  the  room-door,  lifted 
the  various  documents,  and  read  them  with 
every  sense  he  had.  Then  he  went  to  Sophia  ; 
and  at  that  hour  he  was  almost  angry  with  her, 
although  he  could  not  have  told  how,  or  why, 
such  a  feeling  existed.  When  he  opened  the 
door  of  the  parlor,  her  first  words  were  a  worry 
over  the  non-arrival,  by  mail,  of  some  floss-silks, 


SANDAL  AND  SANDAL.  333 

needful  in  the  bird's-nest  she  was  working  for 
a  fire-screen. 

"  They  have  not  come,  Julius,"  she  cried,  with 
a  face  full  of  inquiry  and  annoyance. 

"They?     Who?" 

"The  flosses  for  my  bird's-nest.  The  eggs 
must  be  in  white  floss." 

"  The  bird's  nest  can  go  to  Jericho,  or  Cal 
cutta,  or  into  the  fire.  We  are  ordered  to  leave 
Seat-Sandal  in  seven  days." 

"  I  would  not  be  so  absurd,  Julius,  so  unfeel 
ing,  so  ungentlemanly." 

"Well,  then,  my  soul,"  and  he  bowed  with 
elaborate  grace,  "Stephen  Latrigg,  squire  of 
Sandal-Side,  orders  us  to  leave  in  seven  days. 
Can  you  be  ready  ? " 

She  looked  into  the  suave,  mocking,  inscruta 
ble  face,  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  began  to 
count  her  stitches.  Julius  had  many  varieties 
of  ill-humor.  She  regarded  this  statement  only 
as  a  new  phase  of  his  temper;  but  he  soon 
undeceived  her.  With  a  pitiless  exactness  he 
went  over  his  position,  and,  in  doing  so,  made 
the  hopelessness  of  his  case  as  clear  to  himself 
as  it  was  to  others.  And  yet  he  was  deter 
mined  not  to  yield  without  a  struggle ;  though, 


334  TH^   SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

apart  from  the  income  of  Sandal,  which  he  could 
not  reach,  he  had  little  money  and  no  credit. 

The  story,  with  all  its  romance  of  attachment, 
and  its  long  trial  of  faithful  secrecy,  touched 
the  prejudices  and  the  sympathies  of  every 
squire  and  shepherd  between  Duddon  and  Esk 
and  Windermere.  Stephen  came  to  his  own, 
and  they  received  him  with  open  arms.  But 
for  Julius,  there  was  not  a  "  seat "  in  the  Dales, 
nor  a  cottage  on  the  fells,  no,  nor  a  chair  in 
any  of  the  local  inns,  where  he  was  welcome. 
He  stood  his  social  excommunication  longer 
than  could  have  been  expected ;  and,  even  at 
the  end,  his  surrender  was  forced  from  him  by  the 
want  of  money,  and  the  never-ceasing  laments 
of  Sophia.  She  was  clever  enough  to  under 
stand  from  the  first,  that  fighting  the  case  was 
simply  "  indulging  Julius  in  his  temper  ;  "  and 
she  did  not  see  the  wisdom  of  spending  what 
little  money  they  had  in  such  a  gratification. 

"You  have  been  caught  in  your  own  trap, 
Julius,"  she  said  aggravatingly.  "Very  clever 
people  often  are.  It  is  folly  to  struggle.  You 
had  better  ask  Stephen  to  pay  you  back  tb<J  ten 
thousand  pounds.  I  think  he  ought  to  A<>  that. 
It  is  only  common  honesty." 


SANDAL   AND  SANDAL.  335 

But  Stephen  had  not  the  same  idea  of  com 
mon  honesty  as  Sophia  had.  He  referred 
Julius  to  Harry. 

"  Harry,  indeed  !  Harry  who  is  in  New  York 
making  ducks  and  drakes  of  your  money,  Julius, 
—  trying  to  buy  shares  and  things  that  he  knows 
no  more  of  than  he  knows  of  Greek.  It's  a 
shame!"  and  Sophia  burst  into  some  genuine 
tears  over  the  reflection. 

Still  the  idea,  on  a  less  extravagant  basis, 
seemed  possible  to  Steve.  He  began  to  think 
that  it  would  be  better  to  compromise  matters 
with  the  Julius  Sandals ;  better  to  lose  a  thou 
sand  pounds,  or  even  two  thousand  pounds,  if, 
by  doing  so,  he  could  at  once  restore  Mrs.  San 
dal  and  Charlotte  to  their  home.  And  he  was 
on  the  point  of  making  a  proposition  of  this 
kind,  when  it  was  discovered  that  Julius  and  his 
wife  had  silently  taken  their  departure. 

"It  is  a  hopeless  fight  against  destiny,"  said 
Julius.  "  When  the  purse  is  empty,  any  cause 
is  weak.  I  have  barely  money  to  take  us  to 
Calcutta,  Sophia.  It  is  very  disagreeable  to  go 
there,  of  course ;  but  my  father  advised  this 
step,  and  I  shall  remind  him  of  it.  He  ought, 
therefore,  to  re-arrange  my  future.  It  is  hard 


336  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

enough  for  me  to  have  lost  so  much  time  carry 
ing  out  his  plans.  And  I  should  write  a  letter 
to  your  mother  before  you  go,  if  I  were  you, 
Sophia.  It  is  your  duty.  She  ought  to  have 
her  cruel  behavior  to  you  pointed  out  to  her." 

Sophia  did  her  duty.  She  wrote  a  very 
clever  letter,  which  really  did  make  both  her 
mother  and  sister  wretchedly  uncomfortable. 
Charlotte  held  it  in  her  hand  with  a  heartache, 
wondering  whether  she  had  indeed  been  as  en 
vious  and  unjust  and  unkind  as  Sophia  felt  her 
to  have  been ;  and  Mrs.  Sandal  buried  her  face 
in  her  sofa  pillow,  and  had  a  cry  over  her  sup 
posed  partiality  and  want  of  true  motherly  feel 
ing.  "  They  had  been  so  misunderstood,  Julius 
and  she,-  —  wilfully  misunderstood,  she  feared; 
and  they  were  being  driven  to  a  foreign  land, 
a  deadly  foreign  land,  because  Charlotte  and 
Stephen  had  raised  against  them  a  social 
hatred  they  had  not  the  heart  to  conquer.  If 
they  defended  themselves,  they  must  accuse 
those  of  their  own  blood  and  house,  and  they 
were  not  mean  enough  to  do  such  a  thing  as 
that.  Oh,  no !  Sophia  Sandal  had  always  done 
her  duty,  and  always  would  do  it  forever."  And 
broad  statements  are  such  confusing,  confound- 


SANDAL   AND  SANDAL.  337 

ing  things,  that  for  one  miserable  hour  the 
mother  and  sister  felt  as  mean  and  remorseful 
as  Sophia  and  Julius  could  desire.  Then  the 
rector  read  the  letter  aloud,  and  dived  down 
into  its  depths  as  if  it  was  a  knotty  text,  and 
showed  the  two  simple  women  on  what  false 
conditions  all  of  its  accusations  rested. 

At  the  same  time  Julius  wrote  a  letter  also. 
It  was  to  Harry  Sandal,  —  a  very  short  letter, 
but  destined  to  cause  nearly  six  years  of  lonely, 
wretched  wandering  and  anxious  sorrow. 

DEAR   HARRY,  — •  There   is  great  trouble  about  that 
ten  thousand  pounds.     It  seems  you  had  no  right  to  sell. 
"  Money  on   false   pretences,"   I   think  they  call  it.     I 
should  go  West,  far  West,  if  I  were  you. 
Your  friend, 

JULIUS   SANDAL. 

He  read  it  to  Sophia,  and  she  said,  "What 
folly !  Let  Harry  return  home.  You  have 
heard  that  he  comes  into  the  Latrigg  money. 
Very  well,  let  him  come  home,  and  then  you 
can  make  him  pay  you  back.  Harry  is  very 
honorable." 

"  There  is  not  the  slightest  chance  of  Harry 
paying  me  back.  If  he  had  a  million,  he 
wouldn't  pay  me  back.  Harry  spoke  me  fair, 


THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

but  I  caught  one  look  which  let  me  see  into 
his  soul.  He  hated  me  for  buying  his  right. 
With  my  money  in  his  hand,  he  hated  me. 
He  would  toss  his  hat  to  the  stars  if  he  heard 
how  far  I  have  been  over-reached.  Next  to 
Charlotte  Sandal,  I  hate  Harry  Sandal ;  and  I 
am  going  to  send  him  a  road  that  he  is  not 
likely  to  return.  I  don't  intend  Stephen  and 
Harry  to  sit  together,  and  chuckle  over  me. 
Besides,  your  mother  and  Charlotte  are  surely 
calculating  upon  having  'dear  Harry'  and 
'  poor  Harry '  at  home  again  very  soon.  I  have 
no  doubt  Charlotte  is  planning  about  that 
Emily  Beverley  already.  For  Harry  is  to  have 
Latrigg  Hall  when  it  is  finished,  I  hear." 

"  Really  ?     Is  that  so  ?     Are  you  sure  ? " 

"  Harry  is  to  have  the  new  hall,  and  all  of 
old  Latrigg's  gold  and  property." 

"  Julius,  would  it  not  be  better  to  try  and 
get  around  Harry  ?  We  could  stay  with  him. 
I  cannot  endure  Calcutta,  and  I  always  did 
like  Harry." 

"And  I  always  detested  him.  And  he 
always  detested  me.  No,  my  sweet  Sophia, 
there  is  really  nothing  for  us  but  a  decent 
lodging-house  on  the  shady  side  of  the  Chow- 


SANDAL   AND  SANDAL.  339 

ringhee  Road.  My  father  can  give  me  a  post 
in  'The  Company,'  and  I  must  get  as  many 
of  its  rupees  as  I  can  manage.  Go  through 
the  old  rooms,  and  bid  them  farewell,  my  soul. 
We  shall  not  come  back  to  Seat-Sandal  again 
in  this  chapter  of  our  eternity."  And  with  a 
mocking  laugh  he  turned  away  to  make  his 
own  preparations. 

"  But  why  go  in  the  night,  Julius  ?  You 
said  to-night  at  eleven  o'clock.  Why  not  wait 
until  morning?" 

"  Because,  beloved,  I  owe  a  great  deal  of 
money  in  the  neighborhood.  Stephen  can  pay 
it  for  me.  I  have  sent  him  word  to  do  so. 
Why  should  we  waste  our  money  ?  We  have 
done  with  these  boors.  What  they  think  of 
us,  what  they  say  of  us,  shall  we  mind  it,  my 
soul,  when  we  drive  under  the  peopuls  and  tam 
arinds  at  Barrackpore,  or  jostle  the  crowds 
upon  the  Moydana,  or  sit  under  the  great  stars 
and  listen  to  the  tread  of  the  chokedars  ?  All 
fate,  Sophia !  All  fate,  soul  of  my  soul ! 
What  is  Sandal-Side?  Nothing.  What  is  Cal 
cutta  ?  Nothing.  What  is  life  itself,  my  own 
one  ?  Only  a  little  piece  out  of  something  that 
was  before,  and  will  be  after." 


34O          THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

Who  that  has  seen  the  Cumberland  moors 
and  fells  in  July  can  ever  forget  them  ?  —  the 
yellow  broom  and  purple  heather,  the  pink 
and  white  waxen  balls  of  the  rare  vacciniums, 
the  red-leaved  sundew,  the  asphodels,  the  cran 
berries  and  blueberries  and  bilberries,  and  the 
wonderful  green  mosses  in  all  the  wetter  places  ; 
and,  above  and  around  all,  the  great  mountain 
chains  veiled  in  pale,  ethereal  atmosphere,  and 
rising  in  it  as  airy  and  unsubstantial  as  if  they 
could  tremble  in  unison  with  every  thrill  of 
the  ether  above  them. 

It  was  thus  they  looked,  and  thus  the  fells 
and  the  moors  looked,  one  day  in  July,  eighteen 
months  after  the  death  of  Squire  William  San 
dal,  —  his  daughter  Charlotte's  wedding-day. 
From  far  and  near,  the  shepherd  boys  and 
lasses  were  travelling  down  the  craggy  ways, 
making  all  the  valleys  ring  to  their  wild  and 
simple  songs,  and  ever  and  anon  the  bells  rung 
out  in  joyful  peals;  and  from  Up-Hill  to  Seat- 
Sandal,  and  around  the  valley  to  Latrigg  Hall, 
there  were  happy  companies  telling  each  other, 
"  Oh,  how  beautiful  was  the  bride  with  her 
golden  hair  flowing  down  over  her  dress  of 


SANDAL   AND  SANDAL.  34! 

shining  white  satin  !  "  "  And  how  proud  and 
handsome  the  bridegroom  ! "  "  And  how  lovely 
in  their  autumn  days  the  two  mothers !  Mis 
tress  Alice  Sandal  leaning  so  confidently  upon 
the  arm  of  the  stately  Mrs.  Ducie  Sandal." 
"  And  how  glad  was  the  good  rector !  "  Little 
work,  either  in  field  or  house  or  fell-side,  was 
done  that  day ;  for,  when  all  has  been  said  about 
human  selfishness,  this  truth  abides,  —  in  the 
main,  we  do  rejoice  with  those  who  rejoice,  and 
we  do  weep  with  those  who  weep. 

The  old  Seat  was  almost  gay  in  the  sunshine, 
all  its  windows  open  for  the  wandering  breezes, 
and  its  great  hall  doors  set  wide  for  the  feet  of 
the  new  squire  and  his  bride.  For  they  were 
too  wise  to  begin  their  married  life  by  going 
away  from  their  home ;  they  felt  that  it  was 
better  to  come  to  it  with  the  bridal  benediction 
in  their  ears,  and  the  sunshine  of  the  wedding- 
day  upon  their  faces. 

The  ceremony  had  been  delayed  some  months, 
for  Stephen  had  been  in  America  seeking  Harry ; 
seeking  him  in  the  great  cities  and  in  the  lonely 
mining-camps,  but  never  coming  upon  his  foot 
steps  until  they  had  been  worn  away  into  for- 
getfulness.  At  last  the  rector  wrote  to  him, 


342  THE  SQUIRE   OF  SANDAL-SIDE. 

"Return  home,  Stephen.  We  are  both  wrong 
It  is  not  human  love,  but  God  love,  that  mus 
seek  the  lost  ones.  If  you  found  Harry  now 
and  brought  him  back,  it  would  be  too  soon 
When  his  lesson  is  learned,  the  heart  of  Goc 
will  be  touched,  and  he  will  say,  "  That  will  do 
my  son.  Arise,  and  go  home." 

And  when  Mrs.  Sandal  smiled  through  he 
tears,  for  the  hope's  sake,  he  took  her  hand 
and  added  solemnly,  "Be  confident  and  glad 
you  shall  see  Harry  come  joyfully  to  his  owi 
home.  Oh,  if  you  could  only  listen,  angels  stil 
talk  with  men !  Raphael,  the  affable  angel 
loves  to  bring  them  confidences.  God  als< 
speaks  to  his  children  in  dreams,  and  by  th< 
oracles  that  wait  in  darkness.  If  we  know  not 
it  is  because  we  ask  not.  But  I  know,  and  an 
sure,  that  Harry  will  return  in  joy  and  in  peace 
And  if  the  dead  look  over  the  golden  bar  o 
heaven  upon  their  earthly  homes,  Barf  Latrigg 
seeing  the  prosperity  of  the  two  houses,  whicl 
stand  upon  his  love  and  his  self-denial,  will  saj 
once  more  to  his  friend,  "  William,  I  did  well  t( 
Sandal." 


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